


Fire and Steel - The Bonds of Friendship Last To the Stars!

by Shadow_Ravena



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Original Character(s), Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, POV Original Character, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Spoilers, Transphobia, end of series spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Ravena/pseuds/Shadow_Ravena
Summary: After dying in the real world, Daz wakes up to find himself in the world of Fairy Tail--a world of magic, mystery, and violence. Lots of violence. It IS Fairy Tail after all--there is no meaning to the word "restraint!"Armed with knowledge of the plot, Daz must balance wanting to ensure the timeline happens with living in his life-long dream! But how will the Guild react to this mysterious newcomer? And how long can secrets be held before everything is destroyed?Love, betrayal, fire and steel--one thing is for sure, nothing stays calm for long!





	1. An Angel watching over me

"Y-you really are . . . an angel . . ." I say weakly, looking at the figure above me. Clothed in white and with massive wings, she certainly looked the part . . . .

She smiles wistfully and brushes her blue hair out of her eyes. "Angel, huh? I like that. And what's your name?"

"Drake Ansil Zoronica. . . " I reply, laughing to myself a bit, before coughing again weakly. Angel tilts the bowl she's holding so I can grab another mouthful of water--all I could manage in this state.

"That's a mouthful," she says with a pout. "How about . . . Daz?" she asks brightly.

I chuckle again, and close my eyes. "Daz . . . yes. A new name for a new world."

 

"New world?" Angel asks, and I try to nod.

"I'm from . . . Earth . . . and this is . . . Fiore, yes?" I ask, eyes still closed.

There's a pause, then Angel says, "Yes. A stranger . . . but how . . . ?" she asks. and I open my eyes to see her looking off into space. "Perhaps . . . " she mutters, so quietly I wasn't sure if I heard properly.

"Perhaps what?" I ask, and Angel shakes her head.

"Nothing. Can you sit up?" she asks, and I struggle to right myself . . . and finally noticed that I'm totally nude.

 

I yelp and cover myself quickly, blushing furiously. And in front of a girl, too! "I-I'm sorry-!" I stammer, and Angel just laughs. 

"It's okay silly. After that explosion, I'm surprised  _you_ survived!" she declares.

I look around the massive crater around me and nod. "Heh. "Survived". Are we sure I'm not a ghost?" I ask lightly . . . then as she continues to stare at me with big eyes, my face falls.

"Wait. Am I--I'm dead?" I ask, patting myself. I  _felt_ alive--I was breathing and had a heartbeat and everything--but as Angel continued to stare, I started to wonder.

 

"No human . . . could survive that explosion," she says slowly. "And you . . . you've been here for weeks," she says, pointing to the debris, that as I stare I notice has little shoots of grass and weeds mixed in with the rock. "The townspeople . . . they've been afraid to come here," she says, looking down.

Weeks . . . yes . . . I remembered now. Lying in this hole in the ground, staring at the sky, not really thinking, only . . . existing. 

"But you came," I say, and she met my gaze. I smile. "Thank you. I may be . . . a ghost . . . but I couldn't move until you gave me that water," I say, looking at her bowl.

 

She looks down at it and chuckles. "It's magic water," she says with a soft smile. "I'm glad it finally helped someone," she says, looking away with a far-off expression.

"Helped? I felt like I was fading by inches. It didn't  _help_ me. It  _saved_ me," I say, finally stumbling to my feet.

Angel remains sitting as though she didn't notice. "Saved . . . I saved someone . . . ?" she whispers to herself.

"Yes you did," I affirm, and look down at the ground myself. "I owe you my life . . . but how can I repay you?" I ask.

 

Angel looks up at me, and for the briefest instance there is pain there, terrible, soul-crushing pain. 

 

Then it's gone, and she's grinning. "How about you buy me lunch? I'm starved!"

I laugh uproariously. "Once I get some jewels, I'll be sure to!" I say, wiping my eyes. "Got any ideas for earnin' some cash?" I ask.

"You need clothes first," she says bluntly and I blush again. "I'll just go steal some--" she says, starting to rise.

 

"What?! No!" I exclaim. "Don't steal stuff! I'll just--someone's gotta--" I say, wracking my brains. What did homeless people normally did for clothing?

Angel looks at me for a second, considering something, then after a moment she pulls a key out of her pocket and hands it to me.

I look down at the silver trinket, and see it's has the symbol of a dove on the handle. I look back up at her and say, "A dove? Are you a Celestial Spirit?" I ask, and she nods. "Columba then, right?" I ask, thinking back to my constellations. 

She winces and says, "Just Angel, please.  _Please_ ," she says.

"Ya, of course, whatever you want," I say, and she sags in relief--which just made me more curious. But I didn't want to pry.

 

"Anyways," she says, pointing to the key in my hand. "If you summon me as clothing, that could work!"

"Doesn't that require magic?" I ask. "Humans--er, Earth humans--don't have any?" I say. Right? That's how it worked?

"But you're like a ghost, right?" she says. "Might as well try!" she says brightly.

I scratch my hair and say, "But isn't--aren't there a lot of Columbas and each key summons a new one?" I ask, thinking back to the show. "So it'd just be a stranger." And that thought weirded me out too much to try.

 

Angel tilts her head and says, "Nooooo. There's only one Celestial Spirit for each constellation," she says. 

"But there many silver keys, aren't there?" I ask, and she shakes her head again.

"Nope! Only one key per spirit," she says, but again, there's a shadow of something there.

 

"But in the show--" I start, and Angel tilts her head.

"Show?" she asks.

"I know about Fiore and Celestial Spirits and stuff cause in my world, you all are a cartoon, a television show. Er, that's--" I start to explain, but Angel brightens.

"Oh! TV show you meant! Ya we get that in the Spirit Realm," she says. "Ooooohhhh so your world isn't like here?" she asks.

"Or Edolas," I reply. "It's rather boring--no magic at all, people are easily hurt, that sorta thing."

 

"Must be nicer being here!" Angel says with a laugh. "That sounds super boring!"

I roll my eyes. " _Tell_ me about it! Man I'm so excited to be here!" I say, jumping a bit--and stumbling over again.

"Whoa, take it easy dude!" Angel says, rushing over and helping me to my feet. "You only just got some magic in your system--you've gotta be weak as hell."

"Magic?" I ask. "Oh--because I'm a ghost?"

Angel nods. "You need magic like humans need food. But this place is strangely a magical black hole," she says with a frown. 

 

I chuckle. "Well, then let's get out of her--whoa!" I shout, as Angel suddenly bear-hugs me and launches into the air, her powerful wings shooting us upwards. "Why so high?!" I ask as she soars above the field I was in, and now in the air, I see Magnolia town not a mile away spread out beneath us.

"There's more magic higher up," Angel explains as we reach cloud-level. "Feel better?" she asks.

I pause for a second, then say, "A little bit!"

"Good! Then your turn to fly!" she says, dropping me.

 

I scream as I plummet towards the earth, but as if by instinct, I feel a rush of energy race through me, and suddenly I'm flying!

"Whhaaa-wwhhoooo!" I cry as I zoom forward towards Magnolia, then up in a loop-de-loop, then a weird zig-zag patter, and generally everything I've always dreamed of doing.

Angel kept clear away from me as I darted around like a maniac, only coming over when I finally settled on levitating. "Having fun?" she asks with a sly smile.

"I've  _always_ wanted to fly!" I say gleefully. 

 

Then finally calming down a bit, I say, "Guess I'm really a spirit ain't I."

"Yeeeeeppppp," Angel says. "Bet you can turn intangible too!" 

"Heh, that'd be cool!" I say. I look down at Angel's key still clutched in my right hand and say, "I guess I have more magic now, so I could summon you. But wait--you're already summoned?" I ask, tilting my head.

 

She looks away. "Just do it, okay?" she says. "It'll work, I promise."

I shrug. Why not? I felt stronger now, a lot stronger, as though flying had re-invigorated me. "Okay."

 

I hold the key out in front of me and start to say, "Gate of the Dove--"

"You don't have to do that," she says, and I pause and look at her, confused. "The chant thingy. Lots of people do, and stick the key out like a moron. Just  _concentrate_ ," she says, and I nod.

"Right," I say, and  close my eyes. 

 

I concentrate on locating that well of energy I could feel inside me, and directing it down my arm, through my hand, and into the key I was holding. I could feel the magic start to heat up as I pumped magic in it, but nothing else seemed to happen . . . 

 . . . well, maybe everyone did the chant cause it made it easier.  _Angel, please come to me!_ I think, and suddenly feel a weight on me.

I open my eyes to see myself clothed in a dorky white toga/dress--well, at least it covered my junk. 

 

Then I realized what I'd done, and let out a hoot. "I summoned a spirit! I used magic! This is awesome!"

 _Ya ya congrats_ a voice in my head says, and I jerk.  _Calm down idiot, it's me. Spirits can use telepathy with their owners_ she says.

I frown, and say slowly, "I'm not your "owner." That makes you--that makes you sound like property. How about . . . " I wrack my brains. "Summoner? Is that okay?"

Angel goes quiet for so long that I thought the connection was lost, when she finally replies, " . . . I'd like that, Daz. Now. You were going to get a job?" she asks, and I chuckle.

"Will do ma'am!" I say, flying down to Magnolia--and my future!


	2. Put Your Back Into It!

"E gads! Get some proper clothing before asking for a job!" Mr. Morrison says, shooing me out of his store. 

"I'm  _try--_ " I start, but he shoves me back out of the shop and slams the door on my face. " _-ing._ Real friendly people here," I say.

 _Well your dress is a little out-of-place_ Angel says as I turn and start walking again.

"Ya and  _whose_ fault is that?" I grumble back, but only half-heartedly. Angel couldn't control it anyways. But still, a toga?! Or tunic-dress if you wanted to be picky. 

 

"That was what, the sixth store?" I grumble, trudging through the streets again. I dared not fly unless I get people chasing me out of town--maybe paranoia, but it wasn't worth the risk. I was getting weird enough looks as is!

 _Eighth_ , Angel corrects.  _You forgot the boutique and the Lux Rose_.

"Didn't count them," I argue back, and get another strange look from a passerby. _Oh ya, don't talk to yourself idiot_ I think.

 

 _There is one more store I saw a sign for . . ._ Angel says, and I perk up.

 _Where?!_ I ask.  _And what kind of store?_

 _A bookstore_ Angel replies.  _But--_

 _Why didn't you mention that first?!_ I reply.  _I love books!_

 _Because the owner is--you know what? It just slipped my mind. Now, go right--_ she says, directing me away to the  _old_ part of town.

 

We passed vintage shops and little mom-and-pop places and many window-hole eateries, before finally stopping in front of a ramshackle store. 

I can't see anything through the grimy, cracked front windows; so craning my neck, I spot the splintered wooden sign of the shop. "Fiji Books and Curiosities," I read out-loud. "But why does it look abandoned?" I say, looking back down at the store-front. The only thing that indicated they were indeed open was a faded "Help Wanted" sign taped to the windows.

 _Angel, are you sure about this?_ I think.

 _Worth a shot, ain't it?_ she replies.  _Got any better ideas?_

"Not really," I mutter, and place my hand on the doorknob. 

 

Strangely, it glows for the briefest of seconds--enough to make me think I was imagining things-- before turning. I swung the door open with the loudest creak imaginable that drowned out the sound of the hanging door-bell.

Instantly, a little old man in traditional Japanese clothes jogs up to the front of the store. "Can I help you?" he asks, looking up at me.

"I heard you wanted help?" I say, looking around the store--and I could see why!

 

The bookstore was a  _mess_. Shelves were stacked haphazardly with books, pens, paperweights, rings, bracelets, stones, crystals, crystal balls, somehow-alive plants, watches, clocks, figurines, keys, and just about anything else you'd expect in a 'curiosity' shop--which is to say I couldn't recognize  _half_ of them. 

"Yes!" he says, clapping his hands together. "I need someone to organize the store--so many have tried, so many have failed," he says with a frown. Someone had tried? The place looked like a tornado had gone through it!

"The pay is good--eight hundred jewels an hour!" he says proudly. I quickly do the math in my head--that was eight dollars an hour!

 

Still, beggers can't be choosers. "I'll take it," I say, pumping my fist. "When do I start?" I ask.

"Now! And you don't stop till you're done!" he says, whirling around and walking to the back of the store.

"Wait!" I call. "Don't I need to sign a contract or something?!" I say, but he merely mutters something and disappears into the back room.

"Well this isn't shady  _at all_ ," I mutter, shaking my head. I pull out work visa and sigh. To become a citizen cost one hundred thousand dol—jewels. The Mayor graciously allowed me to have a temporary work visa—after I explained the concept to him—until I earned the cash.

But this? Organizing _this_ mess? 

 _Nothing to it but to get to work!_ Angel calls, and I sigh. Right right. Time to work.

 

I bustle about the shop, taking inventory of all the books and all the trinkets, and start by stripping the shelves and piling everything on the floor--fortunately, no-one seemed to think this place was open, for as the hours passed no-one came in.

I quickly discovered that everything was  _filthy_ with dust, and though Mr. Fiji--I assume--hadn't asked me, I still got a washcloth from the storeroom and started cleaning everything off. What seemed like decades worth of dust and grime came off, and I had to clean the cloth again and again and again, getting filthy myself in the process. Strangely, Angel's dress never seemed to get grimy, but my skin sure did!

Night fell and still Mr. Fiji hadn't appeared, and since I didn't really  _need_ to sleep, I continued through the night, cleaning more than organizing, and only when the sun rose did the shelves finally look decent enough to put stuff back on them.

 

Unfortunately the  _product_ was still covered in grime, so I simply heaved a deep breathe and started to clean all  _that_ off as well.

Sometime around the afternoon Mr.m Fiji finally appeared. "What?!" he cries, looking around at the somehow even messier shop. "This is worse than before!"

I look up from the jade cat I was polishing and say, "It'll come together! Just needed to get stuff off to shelves to clean," I say.

He folds his arms and says, "I never asked you to do that. You won't be paid extra!" he warns.

I shrug. "What's the point of an organized store if everything is covered in grime? No-one will buy anything like that!"

 

"Why do you care?" he asks, giving me a curious glance. "You don't get money for commissions."

I shrug. "Because it's my job?" Ultimately it was so I wouldn't get fired for half-assing it, but also the thought of everything looking so filthy bugged me. Weird as it sounds, the product deserved better than that.

As I think this I notice Mr. Fiji staring at me curiously, so I clear my throat and say, "I hope it's alright that I worked all night," I say. Was overtime even a thing in this universe?

He waves his hand. "Yes yes, you will be paid for it. Not any extra though," he says.

"Okay," I reply, waiting for a minute before turning back to my work. Time was money after all!

 

Mr. Fiji watched me for a few minutes, before silently returning to the back. I relaxed a little when he was gone--he had an eagle-eye stare that man. And something about him seemed strange, though I couldn't put my finger on it . . . 

 

Night and morning passed again before I finally finished  _cleaning_ everything and could actually start organizing the shelves. Since I had so much time to think about what I wanted to do, it took far less time to actually get that done, and when Mr. Fiji came in for his afternoon check-in, the shop was fully prepped for business.

"Ta-da!" I say, motioning to my work with a flourish. I watch as Mr. Fiji walked around the massive shop, face inscrutable.

 

Then he stops and looks at me, frowning deeply. "No no no, this is all wrong!" he says, to my open-mouthed surprise. "The cats go in the front! The keys on the golden wall shelf! The books to the glass cases! This is wrong, wrong, wrong!" he fumes, face turning beet-red.

I yeep and take a step back. "S-sorry! You didn't give me any instructions--"

"You should know!" he fumes, knocking stuff off the shelves and onto the floor. 

I race over to him and grab his arm. "Sir! Please! I'll redo it, but don't do that!"

He just punches me in response, but I refuse to let go. I've taken worse. "Let go of me whippersnapper!" he shouts.

I stand my ground. "Sir! Please do not abuse me. I just don't want anything to break!"

He glares at me, then looks down at the books on the floor, now with wrinkled pages. "Bah," he says, shrugging my hand off and walking through the shelves. "Re-do it!" he calls, vanishing again into the back room.

 

 

I watch the door for a moment warily in case he comes storming back out again, then sigh.  _Angel, this guy is a real nut-job . . ._ I think, as I start to un-do all my progress.

 _He's just really passionate about his shop,_ Angel replies.  _I think . . ._

 _Well, he better not hit me again_ I think as I start piling stuff on the floor again.  _Look, I'm no wimp, but he can't abuse people like that!_

 _You're used to your world_ Angel says.  _Here, it's not really a crime._

 _. . . Alright then_ I reply.  _But a customer might not take it so lightly_.

 _Oh true that, but you're just a servant_ she says.

"I'm not a servant!" I protest. "I'm an employee!"

 _Same difference. And keep your voice down!_ Angel chides.

 _Not same difference_ I grumble, focusing again on my work.

 

 

I keep in mind what he instructed me about, and started to reorganize.  _Keys to the golden shelf . . . hey, these are Celestial keys!_ I think, staring at them. They looked like copies of some of the Zodiac keys? I could sense no magic in them.

 _Right, key replicas are common_ Angel says.  _Fashion accessory, or a bluff. You thought there was more than one key per spirit? That's why._

 _But in the show, Lucy mentions that Plu--er, Canis Minor was a 'species.'_ I reply.  _And that he was common to keep as a pet._

 _Ohhhhhh Nikora!_ Angel replies.  _He's cute. Ya, whoever his owner is usually keeps him as a pet. And there are a LOT of fake keys of his floating around. Along with fake spirits!_

 _Fake . . . what?!_ I think, freezing mid-action.  _How can there be fake spirits?!_

 _Illusion lacrima implanted into the key_ Angel replies.  _Makes it appear as the spirit, but isn't. Great for bluffs, and for non-mages. Nikora's are decent, they act like him and have some magical mass behind them. But others . . . ha! The Zodiac fakes are hilarious. Seriously, try and summon one, I can tell these have them_ Angel says, and I look down at the key in my hand--Leo's! 

 

 _Well that ain't right_ I think, and looking around to make sure Mr. Fiji wasn't gunna yell at me for goofing off, I imbue the key with magic.

Instantly, a--lion? Appears. Being the size of a house-cat. He 'roars' at me and try to jump up on me, but his claws slide harmlessly off my toga.

I couldn't help it, I bent double laughing. "That's nothing like Leo!" I exclaim, tears coming to my eyes. The lion seemed offended and scratched at my face, the claws actually cutting me--but as I winced and placed a hand to check the damage, I felt nothing. " . . . huh. Ghost perk?" I wonder out-loud.

 

Then seeing that 'Leo' was about to claw at the shelves, I hastily de-summon him and place his key on the shelf. I chuckle and think,  _You were right Angel, that was hilarious.  . . . Angel?_

She doesn't reply, even after repeated attempts to contact her. Eventually I shrugged and gave up, and got back to work.

 

Though as I started to shelve the cats, I noticed something: tiny engravings of paw-prints on the shelf. I had dismissed them as nothing more than wear-and-tear, but the small bumps were far too deliberate. Is that what Mr. Fiji meant? That everything, quite literally, had a proper place?

 

Well, it was worth a shot!

 

I went far slower this time, examining the shelves, the flooring, even the lacrima lights overhead for clues. The dragon collection went to the round--almost egg-shaped--black wood shelf in the center of the room. The books on cooking had white paint scattered on the floor, barely visible through the grime--and I realized with a sinking heart I needed to well and truly wash  _everything_. I had cleaned the floor where the items sat, but mostly focused on the shelves and items like I was told.

 

With a great heaving sigh, I got my washrag and got to work.

 

As the grime came up, I saw that the flooring was actually quite beautiful beneath the inch or so of dirt. Purple brick pathways frame with gold led a route around the store--every shelf sat on a different patch of colored wood or tiling. Most of the wood flooring had little patters carved on it, from leaves and flowers to flames to tiny scenes one would expect on a tapestry, not a piece of flooring! 

What wasn't walkway or special display tiling was a mixture of different colors of marble streaked with various colors--silver, pink, blue. The effect was breathtaking--and thanks to the nature of the rock, after some scrubbing it shone as if it was brand-new.

What started as a muddy brown sameness was revealed to be a regal collection of colors and patters--and I saw that the shelves, decorated as they were, truly were the blandest items in the whole store.

 

With curiosity and renewed vigor I started on the walls, and gasped as I realized most of the walls were actually _glass_ , so covered in grime I'd assumed they were merely dirty drywall. Many of the wall panes were mirrors strategically placed to show off the goods on the back shelves, and the non-mirrored parts were many stained glass scenes of lords and ladies and magic and nature. I also found little parts of the wall under each stained glass "window" that came out and revealed a long-dead Lacrima. 

 

 _You need to recharge them_ Angel says.  _Just hold one and focus on flowing your magic into it_.

I do so, and after a few minutes, the Lacrima blazes with light. I place it back in it's little container, and it's light illuminated the stained-glass and made it shine with rainbow light. I felt weak afterwards, nearly exhausted, so I went back to cleaning.

"How did anyone let this place fall into such disrepair?!" I exclaim as the shop slowly comes together. I leave the front windows alone for now--no need to attract customers until I was done--but the shop started to look, well, glorious. A true magic emporium, not a stuffy antique bookstore.

 _Bet the ceiling has some discoveries as well_ Angel says, and I groan. She was right. 

 

I couldn't find a ladder, so I gave up and flew. If Mr. Fiji asked, I'd say my magic toga let me do it.

Though I was glad once I got some grime off, and realized the ceiling was a giant mosaic, made of colored glass and gemstones and shards of beautiful pottery. I couldn't make out the design for a long time--lots of gold-leaf and gems, lots of red glass, lots of black lacquer shards-- but once I finished and landed back on the floor, I gasped.

The image was a dragon defending his hoard from some demon-looking thieves, his flaming breathe made up of most of the lights in the shop, the others being placed strategically through the hoard to make it seem to shine with hidden power. 

 

I looked around, and  _now_ could see where everything went with ease. The green-white wood with flowery tiles had the gardening books. The richly-engraved mahogany shelf had the books on finance and law. The sandstone-based white shelf had travel books. I also saw why the shelves were the plainest items--for the stock must rotate often, as not every shelf filled up nicely. Still, the theme had to be kept to--and now it seemed silly to place the cookery books on the front shelves were pet stuff went.  _Mr. Fiji's memory must be_ _extraordinary_ I think as I work.

 

As I finish up shelving everything, as if by magic, Mr. Fiji appears. He had shown up in the few days I'd spent scrubbing, but not since I finished the ceiling and re-charging  _all_ the lights. He stared around, face impassive--wait, was he crying?!

His eyes seemed to shine just slightly as he looked around and nodded. Then he spotted the windows and frowned--so I hurriedly said, "I wanted the shop interior to be finished before doing the windows--might as well show our best face?" I say, hoping the explanation was adequate.

It seemed to be, for he simply nodded, before turning to go back to his backroom without a word.

 

"Quiet guy," I muttered. 

 _Maybe he's just too happy to speak?_ Angel says.  _I mean, look at this place! It's an entirely different shop!_

I nodded, and squared my shoulders. "Alright. Outside time!"

Exiting the shop for the first time in . . . uh, over a week at least . . . I see that the outside had suffered  _extensively_ from the years. The front windows were cracked, the sign was sagging, the walls were chipped and crumbling away. "This . . . this isn't fixable," I say slowly. 

 _Doesn't look like it. The whole place needs a face-lift!_ Angel replies.

" . . . I need to talk to Mr. Fiji about that," I say, heading back into the shop.

 

I cross the store and notice how much bigger it seemed now that it was  _clean_ and not cluttered, and knock on the storage-room's door. "Mr. Fiji!" I call through it. "I need to talk to you! I want to fix the front of the shop, but I'll need supplies!"

He didn't answer, but I saw the doorknob twist on it's own, and the door slowly swing open  . . . 

 


	3. What Does it Cost You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Note: ethical debate on helping people is in here, so if you don't care about reading that and want the plot-stuff, just skip from finding Mr. Fiji to the notes at the bottom).

I head into the backroom, and freeze in my tracks.  The place was  _huge!_   Not length-wise, for it only went back maybe twenty feet, but in height--the ceiling soared above us. I knew the shop had was tall from the outside, but this was at three stories! Well, two and a half? The front part of the shop had a high ceiling too.

 _Doesn't matter. Find the old man_ Angel says, and I nod.

"Mr. Fiji! Hello?!" I call as I walk around the shelves. Where was he? Why didn't he respond? There's no way he didn't hear me.

And where on  _Earth_ were the ladders? I noticed as I walked around and around the massive shelves that there wasn't a ladder in sight--you'd need to fly to get around here!

"This is weird," I mutter, as I finish checking. "I  _saw_ him go back here, but he's nowhere around!"

 

Looking up at the shelves, I pause. They truly were massive enough someone small could  _climb_ them--maybe he was at the top? 

Worth a shot. I fly on up--and as I fly, I spot a door in the middle of the shop-side wall, above where the ceiling would be. A second room?

I fly over to it and knock on the door, noticing once again  the lack of  _any_ way for a non-flyer to get  _up_ here. Had Mr. Fiji simply had flying magic?

No-one responds to the door, and trying the handle didn't reap any benefits either. "Mr. Fiji!" I call. "Are you in there?!"

 

I can't hear a thing from the inside, no shuffling feet, no nothing.

 _You could phase through the door ya know_ Angel says, but I shake my head.

 _No, that's rude!!_ I reply.  _He could be taking a bath for all I know!_

Angel just sighs, and I decide to check the top of the shelves. 

 

Flying up, I see that the place is even  _more_ dusty than the shop outside, and I groan. More cleaning. You could even see footprints where the rats had gone--!

"Wait, where are his footprints?!" I cry, flying back down to the floor. No footprints, except my own bare feet where I had walked in. But Mr. Fiji wore shoes, and I saw no shoe-prints anywhere.

"Angel," I say slowly. "Just how long has this place been abandoned?"

 _Ah, so you're finally figuring it out?_ she replies.  _Took ya long enough!_

"You coulda told me my employer was a ghost!" I cry. "Come on!"

 _I wasn't sure at first_ she admits.  _I just knew he wasn't human._

 

I groan and face-palm. "Next time could you  _please_ inform me of that?!" I ask.

 _Hmm  . . . . Naaaahhh. This is way more fun!_ she says.

I groan again, then shake my head. "Guess I'm not gettin' paid then," I mutter. "What a waste of time . . . "

 _I wouldn't be so sure about that_ Angel says.  _Go in that room. I can sense he's in there._

"He better not being taking a ghost-dump," I mutter, flying back up and phasing through the wall--and I wasn't sure if it was sudden exhaustion from doing that or what I saw that took my breathe away.

 

The room was  _beautiful_ , a living garden transformed into an apartment. Along one wall was a massive flower with leaves extended in shape of a desk and bench. A massive toadstool made up a dining table, with little puff-stools as seats. Along the other wall was a web of vines woven to make shelves, and a tree bent completely to the side made up a counter, with the leaves having many different fruits hanging from them. A giant, hollowed-out tree made up another counter, the top of the tree making up the room. The walls were many different herbs and flowering vines, the actual structure seeming to be woven grass behind it. The floor was soft moss that squished under-foot, except one massive food garden that had rich, black soil as it's base. 

And in the corner was a beautiful bed of wildflowers--it drew my eye first, but not because of the beauty, but because of the little man on it.

 

"Mr. Fiji!" I cry, racing over to him. The shopkeeper was completely still, and as I neared him, I saw he was merely a corpse preserved by whatever magic ran this room. The whole place seemed in stasis--even a little waterfall-pool on the back wall was completely still, the water stopped mid-fall. 

I fall to my knees and bow my head. "Poor old man . . . did no one even notice you died?" I mutter.

 _At least he died peacefully_ Angel says, and I shake my head.

"If he did, he wouldn't still be a ghost. Ghosts . . . have regrets," I say.

 _Then what's yours?_ she asks, but I ignore her.

 

I place a hand on Mr. Fiji and whisper, "Old man, what can I do for you?"

 _He's DEAD_ Angel replies.  _Even his ghost is gone!_

"He only ever appeared once a day," I argue. "Maybe he's too weak to appear again?"

 _So whatcha gunna do? Wait?_ Angel asks, and I nod. 

"Yes. I owe it to him . .  . well, I don't owe him. But I want to help him," I say softly.

 _You don't KNOW him. Why do you care?_ Angel asks.

 

I bite my lip.  _Because I like helping people_ I reply.

 _Savior complex, huh?_ Angel retorts.  _Ggrrreeaattt. It's none of your business. Just butt out!_

"But it  _is_ my business," I argue. "I found him like this, I should help him!"

 _His next of kin should help him_ Angel says.  _What is he to you?_

"If he had next-of-kin, do you think the shop would be in such disrepair?" I retort.

_Still. Go to the police or something, tell them about him. What, do you want his shop or something?_

 

 

I wince. I  _did_ want the shop--but I shove that selfishness aside. "No," I reply. "It belongs to the state, if no-one else. It'll be a shame to clean it for nothing, but maybe it'll help Mr. Fiji move on," I say.

 _That still doesn't explain WHY_ _you want to help him_ Angel says.

"Why do I need a reason?" I reply. "I want to help."

 _So just a savior complex_ she says.

 

I pause for a moment. "What, exactly, is so wrong with that?" I ask.

 _Thinking you're god's gift to help mankind? A lot of things_ she retorts.

"I don't think that though," I argue back. "I think I see someone who needs help, no one else is bothering, so I'm going to bother."

 _Did he ask you? No. You just asserted yourself_ she says. 

"He  _did_ ask me to clean the shop," I retort. "And all I'm doing now is waiting for him to show back up again!"

 _And if he tells you to buzz off?_ she replies.

"Then I'll buzz off. I won't force myself on someone," I reply. "I'm not that dumb."

 

I pause for a long, long time, and then say slowly, "Look. Helping people isn't  _bad_."

 _Yes it is_ she immediately retorts.  _It's self-righteous and self-centered._

"Then why did you help me?" I ask, but she doesn't reply.

 

The minutes drag on, my worry mounting, but I eventually shake my head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. You  _did_ help me, and it saved my life. See? Helping people is good."

 

Again, she doesn't reply. Eventually, I say, "What do you have against people helping others?"

 _It makes them weak, dependent, pathetic_ Angel replies.  _If people can't care for themselves, they shouldn't exist_

"You can't  _possibly_ think that?!" I exclaim. "That's horrible!"

_It's true. If you can't function alone, you'd just die. Natural selection--_

"Requires  _tribes_ to exist for a  _reason_ ," I argue back. "If we didn't have each other, we would fail!"

 _Then maybe we deserve to fail_ Angel replies.

 

 

I lean back on my heels and cross my arms. "Look Angel, what is this about? This isn't like you."

 _You don't know that_ she retorts.  _You barely know ME!_

I pause for a moment, then nod slowly. "You're right, I don't. We've only just met. So did you only help me for selfish motives, and now you regret it?"

She doesn't reply, and slowly I take her key hanging around my neck and take the necklace off.

 

"Angel," I say softly, looking down at the key in my hand. "I don't care why you saved me. Maybe it is for selfish reasons--everyone has a selfish motive, even if it's just wanting to make themselves feel good. But I refuse to think that helping others is wrong inherently--can be done wrong, yes, for the wrong reasons, but we wouldn't  _exist_ as a species if we didn't help others."

I pause, then say slowly, "I will help Mr. Fiji, and whoever else. But if you cannot condone my actions . . . perhaps it is best that we part ways," I say weakly.

 _You're getting rid of me?!_ Angel exclaims, and I shake my head.

"No! But I--I'm not going to  _not_ help people. And if you can't stand that--"

 _I saved your life and this is how you repay me?!_ she shrieks.  _You--!_

"Look Angel," I say firmly. "I owe you, big time. But you can't command my life!"

 

Again she falls silent, and as the minutes pass on, I sigh and hang my head. Maybe I was doing this for selfish reasons . . . 

 

But really, it was because I knew what it was like to need help, and to have everyone ignore you . . . and I couldn't just . . . sit by and let that happen. Maybe it was wrong, but, 

 

"I'd rather be damned for being a busybody, then see someone suffer needlessly," I whisper to no-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Angel believes helping people makes them weak  
> -Has an ulterior motive for saving Daz  
> -Daz has a past of needing help and not getting it


	4. A Contract For A Soul

Time passed, and I drifted off to sleep. I didn't know I could sleep frankly, but I certainly did doze off because I awaken to feel someone slapping me.

 

I open my eyes and see Mr. Fiji's ghost standing in front of me, and I finally place what's wrong with it--he's the tiniest bit see-through! In the dark shop it hadn't been obvious, but in the brightly-lit apartment I could see the ever-lit steel stove's fire through him.

"What do you want?!" he bellows. "This is my sanctuary! Go away! Shoo!" he says, grabbing me by the arm and trying to drag me away.

I stumble to my feet somehow and say, "Sorry for intruding--I just wanted to fix the front of the shop!" I say as he throws me out of the door--then pauses. "The store-front is beyond repair," I explain. "I need some supplies for it, or you could hire a company?" I suggest.

He cocks his head and says, "You saw what I am. Why do you still care?"

 

I tilt my head in return and say,"Cause it's my job . . . ?"

"But you know now that I'm dead. A dead man can't pay a salary!" he exclaims.

I shrug. "Then pay me once we start selling stuff? Once the front's re-opened--"

"But a ghost can't run a store!" he shouts. "It's impossible!"

In reply, I pull out my work visa and show it to him. "This ghost can," I say.

 

He  _staaarrreessss_ at the little piece of metal, then yanks it from my hand. "Name: Draco Ansil Zoronica, death-date X742, Citizenship: Pending" it read, and the other side had simply "Work Visa."

"What's this?!" he shouts, looking at me.

"A work visa--look, it's a concept from my world," I explain. "It allows a non-citizen to work. And the Mayor said I can get a citizen card when I can pay for it."

He stares at me for a long time. "So even a ghost . . . ?"

"Can run a shop, yes." I say. "Why not?"

 

He stares for awhile longer, than starts to laugh, growing red in the face and tears streaming down his cheeks. "All this time!" he cries. "All this time, I've been worried about losing my shop! But I needn't?" he says to himself, looking off to the side. "I can still run it?"

I nod. "Just go to the Mayor and ask him about it, I'm sure he'll help you--"

Mr. Fiji shakes his head. "I can't," he says. "I can't leave the store."

I pause and think. "Maybe I could go on your behalf? As your employee," I say.

 

He looks off and strokes his chin. "Wait here," he says, disappearing back into the room. I wait patiently, and he re-emerges with a large scroll. "Sign this!" he says, pulling out a pen.

I take the scroll and start to read it, but Mr. Fiji says, "Oy! Just sign it!"

"I'm not signing something I haven't read!" I protest, going back to the scroll. But I quickly realize only the first part is in Japanese--the rest seems to be some foreign script. "What language is this?" I ask, pointing to the majority of the scroll.

"That's Draconic," he replies. "Just sign the damn thing already!"

"Tell me what's in it then," I say, glaring slightly. "Why are you hiding it?"

 

He turns away and flushes even redder. "Just sign it. Then I tell."

I sigh. What little is in Japanese I can't even understand, it's all legal terms. Something something owning the store something something something passing on, etc.

I squint, then look up at him. "Are you giving me the shop? Is that what this is?" I ask.

He humphs. "I can't keep the store now that I'm dead. The damned contract is until you die!" he says, and indeed, as I look at the bottom of the ten-foot scroll I see many, MANY signatures--mostly of Mr. Fiji the something. "But if you're already dead," he says, eyes gleaming--literally. It was kinda spooky.

 

I shake my head, and place the scroll on the ground. "No. This is your shop, I won't take it from you," I say.

He startles. "Why not?! I'm giving it to you for free!"

"Because why should you?!" I retort. "I'm a perfect stranger! Don't you have a child--"

"No!" he declares. "No children. My wife--" he looks away, face wretched. "She could not conceive. Then she left--it doesn't matter!" he declares, glaring at me. "You care about the shop! You cleaned it! It's been decades, no-one ever bothered!"

"That just makes me a decent employee, not worthy of a shop!" I protest. 

"But it  _has_ to be someone else!" he declares. "If not my descendant, then whoever can lay me to rest!"

 

I pause. " _Would_ taking the store put you at peace?" I ask softly.

He looks away. "I don't know," he admits. "I don't . . . I don't want to leave here," he says softly.

"Then don't, Mr. Fiji," I say, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me, and I smile. "Keep your store. Surely your continued existence means you still own the place!"

He looks thoughtful. "But if I'm still the owner, then why hasn't Draco returned?" he asks.

"Draco?" I ask, and to my surprise he pulls out a silver key with the emblem of a flame on it. "Wait, the Celestial Spirit Draco?" I ask.

 

He nods. "Draco and my family have been business partners for eons," he says. "He runs the magic that maintains this place--or did. But after I died, he vanished," he says, hanging his head.

I pause and reach out to the strangely-silent Angel.  _Angel, do you know about this?_

 _I'm not helping you help someone_ she retorts.  _Go away_.

I sigh. "May I see the key?" I ask, and after a moment's hesitation, Mr. Fiji hands over the silver key.

 

I hold it, examine it. I can feel no magic radiating from it--was it a false key whose Lacrima ran out? Working on that theory, I tried pouring my magic into the key--

 


	5. Old Hurts and Old Rules

There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly a tiny dragon appears! He looked like the one on the ceiling, all reds and blacks and golds. He floated in place, wings going up and down, glaring at the speechless Mr. Fiji.

"Draco, I presume?" I say, breaking the silence. But the two ignore me.

 

"Draco--I'm--I'm--" Mr. Fiji starts, but the dragon cuts him off.

"I told you for the last time you greedy bastard! I won't work for you!" the small spirit screams. "You cheated me! You abused me! I refuse! Even a Celestial Spirit has rights!"

"Draco, that was  _years_ ago," Mr. Fiji says. "I was a boy, reckless and foolish. Please--don't hold me here like this."

"I'm not," Draco retorts. "Your guilt is! Guilt over selling your soul for wealth!" he declares.

 

I look at Mr. Fiji sharply. "Did you?" I demand, and he blanches.

"I--I paid that off years ago!" he says. "You gave it back!" 

_Wait, he sold his soul to Draco?_ I wonder, but Draco says, "Only because you forced me! It was a false deal! I gave you riches beyond your wildest dreams, and you betrayed me!"

"I just wanted my soul back," Mr. Fiji said weakly. "I didn't think you'd take it so personally!"

"Take it--you almost killed me you bastard!" Draco screeches. "Even spirits need rest!"

 

"Did he try to keep you out too long?" I ask, and Draco nods curtly. 

"He said he wouldn't un-summon me until I gave him his soul," Draco says with a heated glare at the shopkeeper--and from me, and I wheel on him.

"You can't do that to spirits!" I shout, and he cringes back. "It's not right!"

"T-they're--they don't--" Mr. Fiji tried to protest, but I'm distracted suddenly Angel speaks up.

_Most humans see spirits as property_ she says to me.  _It's perfectly normal._

"Well it isn't right!" I exclaim, drawing weird glances from Draco and Mr. Fiji. "Sorry. Spirits aren't property, they're people! They deserve to be treated with respect!" I exclaim.

 

Mr. Fiji hangs his head. "I know," he says softly.

Draco humphs. "No, you don't."

"Yes I do!" he says, looking up with wet eyes. "Draco, I'm sorry old bean, I'm  _sorry_. I didn't realize--I didn't think!" he says. 

"That's no excuse!" Draco declares. "If your magic hadn't run out, I would have been killed!"

"I know, and I'm  _sorry_ ," Mr. Fiji says, but Draco just humphs. "Please, Draco, forgive me!" he pleas.

"Not on your un-life," the dragon says, looking away from the old man and folding his front arms. "You don't deserve it."

"Then let me earn your forgiveness! What do you want? Jewels? I have plenty now! The store? Take it. Please, what do you  _want?_ " Mr. Fiji cries.

 

Draco opens one eye, and says, "To see you suffer like I had."

"Hasn't he thought?" I ask softly, drawing the dragon's gaze. "It's been decades, Draco. Hasn't that been long enough?"

Draco shakes his head. "How has he suffered? Staying in this world merely protects him from consequences in the afterlife."

"My  _wife_ is in the afterlife you bastard!" Mr. Fiji cries. "My mother and father too! Don't you think I want to see them?!"

"Then why are you still  _here?!_ " Draco retorts, whirling around to face him. "To beg my forgiveness? Well, I won't grant it!"

 

"Why not?" I ask, and Draco cranes his neck around to glare at me. "I mean it. What would it cost you?"

"Letting him get away with near-murder," Draco growls. "Not to mention how he mistreated me before! All because of this damned contract," he says, spotting where it rested on the floor. "It makes me a prisoner of the Fiji family!"

"I thought it made you partners?" I ask.

Draco snorted. "That's what they  _want_ you to think. It basically makes me their slave! I have to maintain the magic, run the counter, run errands--for what?! A hoard a tenth the size of my Spirit World one," he says, spitting fire. 

" _That's_ what it says?" Mr. Fiji asks, and I blink and look at him.

"You didn't know?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I can't read Draconic," he says.

 

_Aannddd this is why we read the damn contract_ I think, but get interrupted by Draco screaming, "Yes you did! All of you know! You always know! And you still abuse me!"

"I didn't!" Mr. Fiji protests. "I thought it said you were co-owner of the shop, and  _that's_ why you ran the front counter!"

"Co-owner?!" Draco says, fire erupting from his mouth--but oddly not catching anything on fire. "I'm a slave! If  _only_ I was co-owner, then at least I'd get paid!"

"You got paid in gold!" Mr. Fiji protests.

" _At a ridiculous salery_ ," Draco says. "One gold coin per sale?!"

"Hey, gold isn't cheap!" Mr. Fiji protests, but I clear my throat.

 

"Um . . . if I may make suggestion," I say, and the two spirits glare at me. I raise my hands defensively and say, "Why not make a  _new_ contract then? Or tear up this old one?" I say, pointing to the hated scroll.

Draco looks at Mr. Fiji and says, "Yes old man, why  _don't_ you dissolve this contract, since I cannot?"

Mr. Fiji looks away. "I want my store," he mutters. "Dissolving the contract means it goes away from me."

"And I want my life back you bastard!" Draco cries.

I clear my throat again. "Uuuhhhh why would it?" I ask. "If the store legally belongs to Mr. Fiji, then--"

 

"Did he tell you that?!" Draco roars. " _I_ own this store!" he declares. "Look at the city ordinance, the land is deeded to  _me!_ "

"It's deeded to your owner you bastard," Mr. Fiji says hotly. "Not to you!"

_"It's deeded to me!"_ Draco roars, shooting flames at Mr. Fiji who cries out in pain. "That  _contract_ is what gives it to my owner!"

"So?! It's belong to my family for generations!" Mr. Fiji declares. "It should be mine!"

 

I look between the two and comment, "Ah, so this is why you two hate each other."

They just growl but don't contradict me. I sigh and rub my face. "It doesn't matter. The contract is  _over_. It ends when Mr. Fiji dies and has no descendants," I say.

"No, the shop goes to whoever lays me to rest!" Mr. Fiji protests.

"It does at that," Draco growls. "Unless Mr. Fiji breaks it."

 

I look off for a moment, then grab the old contract and fly away, leaving them to bicker.

 

 

At the back counter was some scrap paper and pens to write receipts, so I grab a paper and start scribbling something. I go through paper after paper, trying to perfect it, and about an hour later finally lean back and mutter, "This better work . . . . "

 

I fly back to up to the other two spirits, who this point were just shouting obscenities at each other. I fly between them, facing Draco, and stick the paper in his face. "Here," I say. "New contract. You get your freedom, Mr. Fiji gets his store," I say as Draco carefully reads over it.

"What?!" Mr. Fiji cries. "He'll never--!"

"I'll sign it," Draco says, grabbing the pen out of my hand with his tail. He scribbles something that loosely can be described as a signature, and I take the paper and hand it to Mr. Fiji.

He glances at it, then signs it. "There.  _Now--"_

 

"I'm frreeeeeee!!!" Draco screams, flying into the air. "Free, free, free!"

He loops de loops and corkscrews and generally flies all around. "And you can't boss me around any longer you old coot!" he shouts in Mr. Fiji's face. "You can't!" 

Mr. Fiji shrugs. "As long as I keep the shop, I don't care."

I heave a deep breathe. "If it really was that simple, why didn't you guys do this  _yourselves?_ "

"He wouldn't have signed away the shop," Mr. Fiji says, crossing his arms.

"He wouldn't give me my freedom," Draco says, doing the same.

"But you both just  _did_ ," I point out. "Did you even ask each other?!"

 

They look at each other and huff. "Can't trust that old coot, not anymore," Draco says, flinging his head.

"I  _said_ I was sorry," Mr. Fiji says. "I wouldn't betray you twice."

"And how do I know that?!" Draco says, whirling on him. "You could have broken our old contract and written a totally sleazy one!"

"Considering he can't read, I doubt that," I say snarkily, and the two whirl around to look at me.

 

"Can't--of course he can read!" Draco snaps. "He owns a bookstore!"

"Doesn't mean he can read," I point out. "He never read this, did he?" I say, pulling the old contract from my toga. "If he did, and Draco if you weren't  _near-sighted,_ you'd realize this contract expired  _over a century ago."_

They look at each other and then back at me. "WHAT!?" they roar.

 

I point at the bottom of the contract. "It ends in year X670. I wasn't sure until I went to the front and say receipts for after that. And even so," I say, pointing to a specific passage, "It clearly says that, in short, that either party can break the contract at any point."

"WHAT?!" Draco shouts, flying over. "Show me!" he declares.

I point to the passage and watch the dragon squeeze and squint and eventually sigh. "You're right," he grumbles. "The text is too small."

"Why don't you wear glasses?" I ask, but Draco growls.

"They vanish every time I return to the Spirit World," he says. "So the original old man tricked me?!" he shouts in my ear, and I wince.

"Yes," I say. "And every generation has either tricked you, never bothered to read it, or  _couldn't_ ," I say, eyeing Mr. Fiji.

 

He looks away. "Ya ya, words are confusing. They never look the same way twice!" he exclaims.

Draco gives him a curious look, so I explain. "I think Mr. Fiji has dyslexia--it basically makes reading really hard. The brain jumbles the letters, basically," I say.

"Never heard of it," Draco says, and Mr. Fiji just looks puzzled.

"Look--my world is several millenia older, I think," I say. "Our science is more advanced. But trust me, I have the same thing, and it took a  _long_ time for me to read properly."

 

Draco chuckles. "So that explains the spelling mistakes."

I wince. "I  _tried_ to write it with no errors! Whoops."

Draco shakes his head. "Don't worry. The 'meaning of the words' line covers you for that."

I heave a breathe and smile. "Good."

 

"So . . . " Mr. Fiji says. "What did I sign, exactly?"

"Draco still owns the land," I say, and before Mr. Fiji can protest I add, "But you, Mr. Fiji, own the shop until your cessation of existence--your ghost death, basically. You must pay Draco a certain percentage of rent--roughly twenty-five percent of the shop's earning's," I say, and Mr. Fiji turns bright red.

"That's not fair!" he screams. "I'll be bankrupt!"

I give him a quizzical look and say, "How? One-fourth of what you sell won't bankrupt you? It's actually quite generous of Draco--"

"Oh. So percent doesn't mean some big number?" he asks, and I stare. 

"No you dolt," Draco says. "It means for four jewels earned, I get one."

"Ohhh," Mr. Fiji says, stroking his beard. "But I still own the shop?"

 

"If you pay rent," I say. "And if you don't break the terms of the contract. It's long, but basically, causing physical damage to either party will automatically break it, as will other illegal stuff."

"So no more treating me like garbage," Draco says, and Mr. Fiji winces. 

"Yes, yes, that's all good," he says. 

 

Then thinking for a moment, he says, "So I owe you back-rent then, Draco?" he asks, looking at the dragon spirit.

Draco looks away. "The debt is absolved," he says. "That was part of it" he says, glancing at me.

I shrug. "Back-pay for how long? All the centuries? There aren't  _records_ that long back," I say. "But," I warn. "You still owe Draco, Mr. Fiji."

 

He sighs and nods. "For my mis-treatment of you. Alright. What is it?" he asks, looking between us.

"I wanted you to suffer as I had," Draco says, eyes glowing red. "But Mr. Daz had a point," he concedes, eyes returning to their normal amber.

"What point?" he asks.

I pick up the contract and read the note on the bottom. "Draco, Mr. Fiji had already suffered as you had and more, for he died here, imprisoned because you cursed him never to leave," I say, looking up at the dragon pointedly, who looked away.

 

"What?! The store door wasn't broken?!" Mr. Fiji screams.

"No," I say. "It was cursed so that you could not leave," I say. "Or anyone besides a spirit could enter. Now Draco," I say, putting one hand on my hip. "Isn't that revenge enough?"

Draco looks away. "He had food," he says, pointing to the apartment. "He had water. All he needed to do was recant the contract, then the curse would be lifted."

Mr. Fiji crosses his arms and says, "Lose my store?! I'd rather die!"

 

"Noted," I say dryly. They look at me so I continue, "Look you two, this feud, this hatred, what good has it done either of you? Not to be cliche as hell, but why not just  _let it go?"_

They glare at each other and then at me. "You  _clearly_ have no experience in betrayal," Draco says.

"Or wanted something so badly you'd sell your very soul," Mr. Fiji adds.

I sigh. "I have been backstabbed several times," I say. "And I know what it is to be desperate like that. More importantly, I know what it's like to harbor anger. It eats at you--eats and eats, and leaves you bitter and alone. You  _know_ this," I say, and they look away. "Look, I ain't say be friends. But maybe stop hurting each other?" I suggest.

 

They humph and continue to face the opposite sides. "Look," I say. "You two are business partners now. A landlord and a tenant. You need to at least function on  _that_ level," I point out.

"I can agree to that," Draco says.

Mr. Fiji nods. "I can as well."

 

I heave a deep breathe. "Good. Now--Draco, what will it take for you to give Mr. Fiji back his soul?" I ask.


	6. Why Do You Care?

"What will it take for you to give Mr. Fiji back his soul?" I ask Draco. 

"Nothing," Draco says, but Mr. Fiji spins around. "You still own it?!" he exclaims. "No wonder I'm trapped here!"

Draco turned up his nose. "Now you know what it's like to be trapped for ages, growing weaker and weaker, until you fade away."

"But he  _already knew that'"_ I point out. "Dying taught him that!"

Draco blinks and looks contemplative, and Mr. Fiji declares, "Exactly! So--oof!" he cries as I go over and smack him before he can ruin it.

 

" . . . what I gave you," Draco says slowly. "Five million jewels. That's only fair," he says looking at Mr. Fiji intently.

 _That little?_ I thought.  _I would assume billions or trillions!_

"I  _have_ that!" Mr. Fiji declares. "In the register! I  _offered_ you that back then!"

"And," Draco continues, "A sincere apology."

 

"What--I apologized!" Mr. Fiji cries. 

Draco shakes his head. "Not for trapping me--Mr. Daz is correct, you have been punished fairly for that. No, apologize for using me like a tool--feed gold, get magic," he says.

"But you are a tool!" Mr. Fiji declares. "All spirits are!"

"So you're one know?" I ask, and he reddens. "No, seriously! You're a spirit. What makes you different from Draco, now?" I ask.

"But I'm  _human_ ," he says, crossing his arms. "That makes me  _better_."

"Like bloody hell it does!" I exclaim. "Why would that make you better--you know what, don't explain," I say when he opens his mouth. "I'm not arguing this."

 

I turn to Draco, and bow deeply. "Draco, will you accept my apology on my employer's behalf? I apologize for eons of treating you like an object, a tool, a slave; for cheating you and deceiving you, for any and all physical abuse done to your person. Please forgive us," I say, looking down.

 

I hear chuckling, and Draco says, "Apology accepted," he says, and I straighten up.

Draco's eyes brighten for a moment, then suddenly Mr. Fiji goes a shade paler--it's like a shadow over him was gone. 

The shopkeeper started to fade away, then seems to struggle for a moment. "No! I'm not ready to leave!"

"No one is, when they die," Draco says. "That alone isn't enough to make you a ghost."

"But what about his regrets?" I ask, looking at the dragon, who shakes his head.

 

"He  _doesn't_ regret it. I thought he had, but he doesn't," he says softly. "But I see now that no amount of time will change that. So Mr. Fiji . . . your soul is your own."

"Noooooooooo" Mr. Fiji says, as he slowly fades away into the ether.

 I heave a sigh. "I didn't want him to go like  _that_ ," I say quietly. 

"You did what you could," Draco says, and I look up at him. "More than he deserves," he adds sourly.

 

We fall quiet for a moment, then Draco flies over to where I had placed the contract on the shelf. "That means I own the shop now, right?" he asks, looking at me.

I nod. The contract stated that if Mr. Fiji died, it went automatically back to Draco. "Ya. Thought it was only fair," I say.

"You could have easily made it out in your own name . . . " Draco says, and I shake my head.

"That wouldn't be right. I wanted--I wanted this to end amicably, properly," I say slowly. "Me taking the store wouldn't be proper."

Draco shakes his head. "You're a weird human," he says. "So you did all this for nothing?" he asks.

 

I shrug. "Suppose so!" I say.

Draco looks at me narrowly. "Nobody does anything for nothing," he says. "Nobodies that nice."

I sigh. "Look, I get that you have reasons to mistrust people, but I honestly just wanted to help. Sure, it sucks not getting paid for cleaning the shop--"

"You actually cleaned it?!" Draco exclaims, flying down.

"Ya--why do you all find that so strange?!" I say, flying down after the dragon and into the front of the store.

 

He's darting all over the place, and . . . sniffling? "It's right, it's finally--it's been so long--" Draco says, and yes, he is crying. 

" . . . the store is your hoard," I say, it finally clicking. 

He nods. "And the Fiji's . . . they let it fall into such disrepair . . . " he says, looking around and shaking his head. "I can't clean, I'm a dragon! But they refused to . . . " he says, looking away. 

"They probably didn't understand," I say softly, walking over to where he's perched on the counter. "The store continued to sell product, so why keep it nice?"

"All they cared about was money," Draco growls. "Having help required money. Cleaning required money. Unnecessary. Unnecessary! This place was a pigstye!" he declares.

" _Tell me about it_ ," I say. "It took me days to clean this place!"

 

"How long exactly?" Draco asks, and I think about it for a while. 

" . . . eleven days," I say eventually. "Almost exactly, now. Why?" I ask, blinking in surprise as Draco somehow opens the cash machine and starts counting out jewels. 

"I owe you for your work," he says. "Only right and proper, even if the old man didn't make you sign a contract. What wage did he offer?" he asks.

"Eight hundred jewel an hour," I respond automatically, then pause. No . . . no. I wouldn't lie about that.

 

Draco seems to stare right through me, and I wonder if he can read minds. Or maybe hearts? In any case, he nods slowly. "What's the cost of rent nowadays?" he asks.

I think for a moment. "Er, I haven't checked so much--I know a nice apartment is 60,000 and another apartment is 100,000--"

"Let's round to 100,000, then," Draco says, stroking his chin with his claws. "Food is still several hundred a meal?" he asks, and I nod. I  _did_ notice that as I walked around the town.

"So eight hundred jewels an hour could pay for food and rent with a little left over . . . but not much more . . . " he mused to himself, and I finally realize he's trying to calculate a livable wage! How modern of the ancient dragon.

 

"I don't need to eat though, so it's fine!" I say, and Draco shakes his head. 

"No. Employees need to be paid fairly according to the market," Draco says.

"Well if it helps, another bookstore was doing a thousand an hour," I offer. "And a lot of stores around here average to that."

Draco stares at me intently again, eyes seeming to burn a hole in my soul, but I'm not lying. "...yes. A thousand an hour, that seems proper. Let's see, for two-hundred and sixty-four hours . . .  ah, here you go!" he says, pulling out a massive wad of cash and handing it to me.

 

I hold it and tremble slightly. "This is so much! I--thank you!" I cry--literally, I start crying.

Draco just waves his hand. "It's what you earned. Now, go get an actual apartment," he says. "You can't just live here."

I pout for a moment--awww, I wanted that plant apartment! It looked sooooo cool!

"....though then again, as the new owner, I suppose you own the apartment," Draco says, and I snap to.

 

"New owner?!" I say. "But--!"

"Owner of  _me_ ," he says. "You summoned me, yes?"

"I--yes--but," I say, and Draco waits patiently. "I didn't do that to weasel into getting the store!"

"Oh you haven't--the apartment is for  _my_ owner so they can re-summon me every day," Draco explains. "Still my store."

"Oooooohhhh," I say. "Gotcha. Um . .  .Mr. Fiji's body . .  ." I start to say, but Draco rolls his eyes.

 

"Just dump it in the trash heap," he says, but I shake my head.

"He deserves some burial," I protest, but Draco looks away.

"You do it then," he says. "Not my problem."

 

I sigh. "Fine. I'll go to the police then--"

"They won't care," Draco interrupts. "They only care about big stuff, not the corpse of one little man."

 

I wince--he was probably right, given the time-period. "Where to even bury him . . . he did love this shop so . . . " I mutter, and Draco shrieks, "Not here!"

"What?" I ask, looking at him, but the dragon shakes his head vehemently. "Not on my land! Not here! I refuse!"

"Alright alright fine I'll find someplace else," I say, thinking. "What would he like, besides the store . . . "

"Being buried in money," Draco says with a snort. "The man obsessed over it."

 

"He did then, maybe not now," I point out. "We don't know!"

"Exactly, you don't know!" Draco retorts. "So why do you care?!" he says, popping up above a shelf and staring at me intently.

"If I died, I'd want a decent burial," say. "I'd think he wants the same!"

"So just useless sympathy?" he asks, and I groan and face-palm, the bills in my hand falling to the floor. 

 

"What is  _with_ this place?! Is everyone here just an asshole?" I cry, and Draco just humphs.

"No, just those us of who'd been abused," he retorts. "Like you'd understand," he mutters.

"I  _do_ understand Draco," I say, and he just growls. "No, seriously. Before--before I died . . . " I look down at the floor, a nice cherry-wood here.

"Before I died . . . . "

 


	7. The Soul of the Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: 
> 
> TRANSPHOBIA  
> TRANS ABUSE  
> MISGENDERING  
> SEX ABUSE  
> SEX SLAVERY
> 
> AHEAD!

"Danielle! Why aren't my socks clean?!" a burly man bellows, storming into my bedroom.

I look up from my homework and blink. "Cause . . . you didn't wash them?" I reply.

"I told  _you_ to do the laundry!" the man screams. "Now get to it!"

I shake my head and sighs. "I know Mom's gone, but-" 

"No buts!" he says, flinging the rancid socks my face. "And get dinner done, girl!" he bellows, leaving the room. 

 

"Hey, It's Draco, and I'm  _NOT  A GIRL,"_ I call after him, and he freezes, turning on me slowly. "I'm not a girl," I say, sticking my chin up. "Haven't been for years now! You'd  _know_ that if you came home--ARKC!" I cry, as he storms forward and raises me by the neck.

"You are a girl,  _Danielle_ ," he spits. "Or you're  _dead_ ," he says, tightening his grip.

I glare at him. "You wouldn't kill your only son," I say softly. 

"Watch me," he says, and my head starts to swim . . . . 

 

* * *

 

 

"Your old man actually strangled you to death?" Draco asks.

I shake my head. "No. I came too a few minutes later to a pile of laundry on my chest. But, uh . . . he'd made me pass out before and after. A lot," I say, subconsciously rubbing my neck.

Draco looks away. "And you'd still give him a burial?" he asks. 

"I did, yes," I say, and Draco's gaze snaps to my own. "He died in a fist-fight with me," I say. "Chance in a thousand--I hit just the wrong spot. He almost killed me, too," I say, looking away. "Police ruled self-defense. I got him a nice funeral, though," I say, staring into the middle-distance. "It only seemed right."

 

Draco falls silent for a long, time time as I drift off into thought. I thought I heard him mutter about the reason I was a ghost, but I didn't respond. 

 

Eventually, Draco says, "Fine. I'll let him be buried here, Daz," he says, and I snap my attention over to him. "But not for him!" he clarifies. "For you, for getting my freedom. Now we're even," he says, and I nod.

"Thank you, Draco," I say, and he shakes his head. 

"I wasn't finished! It has to be in that room. I don't want to  _see_ him ever again!" he spits.

"Right, of course," I say, trying to think of how exactly to bury him in  _there_. Out-loud I say, "His body looks preserved--is it the magic of the room?" I ask, and Draco nods.

"An old spell to make it go into stasis if the main Lacrimas run out of power," he says. "Why?"

 

"Can you . . . speed up aging?" I ask. "Turn Mr. Fiji's body to near-dust? Then he can be fertilizer for the flowers," I say.

Draco glares at me up to the point where I say fertilizer, and then he bursts out laughing. "I like that idea!" he says, flying up towards the ceiling--and through it! But closer inspection reveals a hatch in the woodwork. "Ahhh, ddduuhh, I remember that," I say, face-palmimg.

I follow Draco up through to the room above, and find him perched over Mr. Fiji's body, it slowly decaying under his claws. It sticks for a moment, but then the flesh is gone and the bones crumble into dust. "There," Draco says, flying back over to me. "He's bone-dust now."

 

I walk over and gently brush the dust off the flowers and into the dirt below, trying my best to kneed the dust into the soil. It takes a few minutes, and when I look back up, Draco is gone.

"Riiigghhttt," I say, looking at the patch of moss up-ended by the hatch. "Why would he stay?"

I walk around the room a bit, examining all the various flowers, then finally sit down at the flower desk.

 

 

Exhaustion had been dragging at me for days now, but as I finally sit down, I drift off into sleep . . . 

 

* * *

 "Not. Good. Enough!" a figure bellows, whacking me over and over again with a whip.

"I'm sorry!" I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I'm sorry sir! Please-please don't--

 

_Please don't hurt me!_

* * *

 

 

I jerk awake as I hear the last please, a much more feminine voice than mine ever was.m I also realize thanks to a cool breeze on my bare back that Angel has vanished.

I sit up and see her key on the desk--then immediately panic. I hadn't kept her out too long did I?!

I clutch the key and cry, "Angel, Angel! Please--" I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on putting all my magic into the key.

 

Nothing happens, except it grows hot. I started to shake--not again, not again--!!!

 

Maybe she just--de-summoned herself?! But how to check--Draco!

 

I scramble to my feet and search for the key--come on, where did I put it?!

"Looking for this?" a voice says, and I whirl around to see Draco floating by the open door of the apartment, key clutched in his tail. "I was just going to say--wait, where are your clothes?" he asks with a frown.

"Angel! Columba, I mean. She's gone! I had her out the whole time, Draco, I don't--I didn't--!" I babble, hugging myself in my panic.

 

Draco seems to get my meaning though when he spots her key on the desk. "You had a Celestial Spirit Dress on?!" he exclaims. "For how long?!"

"Eleven days," I say, wincing back pre-maturely. Draco doesn't charge as I expect, looking too stunned to move. "I didn't mean to," I say in a rush. "I didn't! I didn't want to hurt you, I swear--!"

"Calm down, boy," Draco says, snapping me out of my hysteria. "Let me see her key."

 

I go and get it from the desk, and place it in Draco's open tail, his own key long forgotten. He examines the key intently, before slowly saying, "This key . . . it  _is_ real. But how you used it to summon anyone is beyond me . . . " he mutters.

"I--I don't know. Angel handed it to me, and told me to summon her as clothes, and--"

"Wait, she  _handed_ it to you?" Draco says, and I nod. "She was already summoned?" I nod again.

 

"We met with her saving my life--she gave me magical water after I emerged in this world," I say, quickly explaining what'd happened. Draco listens and scratches at his jaw.

"I do believe . . . that was Angel . . .  or a piece of her," Draco says slowly.  Draco grows more serious. "I do believe she was double-summoned," he says. "Another copy of her key must exist."

"But I thought--" I start, confused beyond belief.

"It's not supposed to be done," Draco interrupts. "We outlawed it centuries ago. Some wizards still have old copies of the keys, floating around--blast it!" he cries, flaming, and I flinch backwards. "It splits the spirit in two!" he cries. "Oh sure that  _dog_ is fine, but most of us--!" he cries, shaking his head. 

"So Angel--what?" I ask, and he calms down.

"I do believe your magic ran out," he says. "I felt it myself--you blipped out and I went back as well. I've been here on my own magic since then," he says. "You need to re-summon me. And as for Angel--" he looks away. "Her other owner must have her."

 

"Then we need to find her!" I cry, slamming my fist into my palm. "She could be in trouble!"

"What makes you assume that?" Draco asks, and I tell him about my dream.

"That was her, I know it is. And why would she give me key otherwise?" I ask, taking it back from Draco and looking at it. "She saved me for a reason," I say quietly. "Maybe it was so I could save her?"

"Maybe she got sick of your saccharine-sweetness and left," Draco retorts. 

 

I wince. "She did have issues with me helping Mr. Fiji," I say, and when Draco agrees I add, " _Before_ she knew about what he did to you. When we found his body, she had a big old thing about messiah complex and all that," I explain.

Draco humphs. "I would tend to agree. Did she  _ask_ you for help?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, but--"

"Then leave it alone," he advises, starting to fly away.

 

"I request a week's leave," I ask, and Draco freezes. "Sir. I need to investigate. If it's nothing, it's nothing and I'm a busy-body. If she's in trouble though--I owe her my life!" I cry, and I see him glance away slightly. "I owe her! Even if she doesn't want it--I have to at least  _see!_ "

"You'll need clothes first," Draco says, and I laugh. 

"Ya ya ya I know. Too bad I can't order delivery or something," I say. Then, pausing, I add, "So I get the time off?"

Draco sighs. "I'm bound to do whatever you want as your Celestial Spirit you know," he says. "Just order it."

 

I blink, then shake my head vehemently. "No. I--no. I don't want that. I don't want to be someone's  _master_ , or dictator, or whatever!" I cry. "I want to be friends--or at least, partners!"

"That's not how it's done," Draco says, shaking his head. "You summoned me, so you  _own_ me."

I cross my arms. "No," I repeat. "I won't behave like that! So what if I have your key--it doesn't mean I own your soul!" I cry.

"That's exactly what it means," Draco says bluntly, but I just shake my head more violently.

"No, no, no!" I cry. "I won't! I refuse! It's  _wrong!_ You can think and talk and act just like me--why should I own you?!" I shout. "It's  _wrong!_ "

"Calm down there Daz!" Draco shouts, and I notice I'm hyper-ventilating. "What is it to you?"

 

 

I gulp, and say in a rush, "I was a slave too, okay? I got kidnapped after my dad died by a sex-slave ring--they said a freak like me was always in demand. A guy-girl? I--" I look down and cry out when I see my nakedness, cry and  _shake_. 

 

Draco doesn't say anything, just flying out of the room. After a few moments, he holds his key out to me. "Here," he says gently. "Summon me as armor until you buy some clothes. Then we'll find Angel," he says, and I shakily take his key.

"T-t-thank you," I blubber, and he tuts.

"Boys don't cry," he chides. "You  _know_ that, Daz."

 

"A-actually it's healthy t-to cry," I say, but I take his meaning, and smile. He's just trying to help.

I take Draco's key and says, "T-thank you, D-draco . . . "

He just shakes his head. "You will just owe me a favor," he says, and I chuckle.

 

"I'm serious," he adds, and I straighten up and nod.

"As am I.  _Thank you_ ," I say.

Then looking at his key, I take a deep breath and say, "Alright. Armor time," I say, and summon Draco.

Instantly I feel heavy, scaled armor coat my legs and torso, leaving my arms bare. I looked down and grinned--it felt so much better to be in pants!

_Now go buy some clothes_ Draco says.  _I dun wanna be touching you for long, slimey human_.

 

I roar laughter at that, and fly up and get some of my cash. "Yes sir!"

 

First, clothes. Then--saving Angel!!!

 


	8. Black Magic

I stride through town with my head high, orange eyes flashing in the sunlight and crimson hair matching Draco's armor. But no longer did I wear bare metal to skin--my legs were clad in black cotton, a red stripe down the side pf the athletic pants to match my hair, and my torso covered in a black muscle-shirt. Around my neck hung Angel and Draco's keys, which shone and jingled and I strode through the streets.

 _Ya ya you look cool, but where are you GOING?_ Draco asks, interrupting my thoughts.

 _The_ _crater_  I reply, breaking into a run once we passed the last house.  _There might be a clue there! No-one in town seemed to know anything_.

 

 _You'd get there faster by flying you know_ Draco reminds me.  _Especially with that fire-ring._

I look at the ornate ring on my left hand--a gift from Draco to help in my quest.  _I don't know how to USE it_ I protest.  _I'd just burn everything up!_

 _I'll teach you as we travel_ Draco says.  _Now try to fly!_

 

I take a deep breath and jump into the air, trying to ascend. I make it up a few feet, but I find it far harder than before--my clothes, light as they were, seemed to weight me down considerably. 

 _Try harder--you need to use more magic!_ Draco instructs, and I nod, and.

But easier said than done, as I couldn't quite figure out how to focus my magic properly. On my feet? My whole body? 

 _Ugh, just focus on your chest--pull yourself forward!_ Draco cries.  _It's not that difficult!_

"Hey, I have only flown ONCE," I protest, trying to do as instructed--but all I seem to do was turn myself intangible. Whoops.

 

Draco groaned and we went back and forth the entire trip to my impact sight with little success. I couldn't manage to get more than thirty feet off the ground--decent, but nowhere near what I would like.

 

But as soon as the crater came into view, I felt a burning sensation in my chest, and Draco cries,  _Whoa! Stop! This is a dead-zone!_

I stop and actually back up a bit until the sensation passes. "What was that?" I wonder.

 _Seems like a hole in space-time_ Draco mutters.  _Magic is being drawn away to balance out--the other side must not have much. This is bad . . ._

"Because Earthland will run out of magic?" I ask.

 _No, because the other side will get poisoned by the foreign magic_ Draco says.  _We need to seal it--but I don't have the power to . . ._

"Do you know who would?" I ask, staring at the crater. Now that I focused, I could feel a 'stream' of magic move past me to some point over the crater, though I couldn't see anything.

 

 _No. Blast--we'll have to leave it_ Draco grumbles.  _But you said you met Angel there?_ he asks.

I nod. "She found me in the crater. I don't know where she came from though, I was unconscious," I add.

 _Little wonder given the magic_ _siphon_  Draco says. He sighs and adds,  _You'll need to get closer._

 

I groan, but advance, wincing at the pain as what felt like my blood gushing out of me. The sensation grew worse the closer I got to the epicenter, and I was starting to feel woozy when I finally got to the place where I crash-landed.

Looking around, I see nothing to indicate anyone was here, nothing to help us.

 

I stand around for a moment, confused, then notice something. I can feel a tug, a pull--my magic leaving me not just towards a point above me, but somewhere to my right.

"What the?" I mutter, climbing back out of the crater and following it. 

The pull was faint, so faint I could barely be sure it was there, but it seemed as good a lead as any. Draco had fallen silent, and suddenly I feel his armor vanish!

I cry out and clutch at Draco's key.  _Draco! Draco! Are you okay?!_ I call.

 

 _I'm alright_ he replies.  _You ran out of the magic I need to survive._

 _Oh--sorry!_ I reply, striding forward. I did feel weak as hell, so it made sense.   _Hey, I can feel my magic being pulled by something--could it be Angel?_

 _Possibly_ Draco says.  _She's not here in the spirit world._

I grit my teeth and start to run--if she was still in the real world, she couldn't last long! Even if Leo did--

 _Leo? He's dead!_ Draco cries.

I shake my head as I run.  _It's a long story, but Leo's alive in this world, goes by Loke of Fairy Tail. He's a tough spirit!_

 

 

Draco falls silent, but doesn't contradict me. I hadn't met Loke yet--but that was the way in the show. He was still alive, wasn't he? He better be!

 _Check later . . . ._ Draco says.  _Find Angel now with your soul magic!_

That makes me stop dead. "Soul magic?!" I cry.

 _The piece of your soul you put in Angel--wait, did you not know?_ Draco ask as I start to protest.

"Uh, NO?!" I cry. "Why would I give her a piece of my soul?!"

 _To keep her here longer, surviving like a human does_ Draco replies matter-of-factly.  _Clever use of that lost magic._

 

"But isn't playing with life and death taboo?" I ask, thinking of Zeref. 

 _It is. But this isn't--it's just putting a piece of your soul into something. It's dangerous magic to be clear--to much use of it will destroy your soul--but it isn't strictly forbidden_ Draco says.

I start to calm down a little, then say, "So it's like . . . splitting my soul apart for . . . what, exactly?" I ask.

 _Many things, really. Telepathy, tracking, bodily-control . . ._ Draco lists.  _But your magic . . . all you do is grant it the ability to collect magic itself._

"Collect . . . magic?" I ask, starting to walk forward again. Draco doesn't reply, and eventually I realize what he means. "Oh, because the soul attracts magic particles, so anything I infuse with my soul will be able to draw magic from the air?" I ask.

 _Exactly_ Draco says.  _Rather clever, really, to use it on Celestial Spirits._

 

"Completely accidental--wait, spirit _s_? Did I do it to you as well?" I ask.

 _Yep. Normally I can't stay out for days on end--you slept for a long time_ he adds when I start to speak up.  _But since your magic supplemented my own, I could last longer._

"Huh," I comment. "That's . . . useful."

Then panicking for a moment, I add, "I didn't do that to anything else, did I?!"

 _No--not that I could sense. Perhaps your magic only works on living objects?_ Draco suggests, and my shoulders sag in relief. All those Lacrimas--that'd be a lot of soul missing.

"Perhaps," I mutter.

 

Then I lower my head and stare at the ground as it passes beneath me. "I apologize for doing so without your permission, Draco," I say.

 _Apology accepted. I don't really mind, either_ Draco says.  _It's useful to have more magic._

"I suppose," I mutter, shaking my head.

 

 _I wonder if you can use magic normally . . . You know what, I never had you try that ring--go ahead and give it a whirl_ Draco thinks.

 

Closing my eyes, I focus on putting my magic into the ring, and I feel it start to warm up in my hand. Then suddenly there's a small popping noise, and I open my eyes to see a flame floating above the ring which moved when I moved my hand. "Cool!" I say, poking the fire--and wincing when it actually hurt. "Alllrriigghhtt, fire is hot," I mutter.

_No duh. Why would you think otherwise?_

"In the show, fire was mostly forceful--almost like high-pressure water," I explain.

 _Dragon fire?_ Draco mutters.  _I suppose that's possible, but--_

"I'll explain later," I promise, going back to playing with the flame. "Now how do I make this useful?"

 

 _Just direct it with your mind_ Draco says.  _That's all magic is--the mind controlling the bit of soul holding the Etheranos_ Draco says.

"So wait, all magic is soul magic?" I ask, trying to do as instructed.

 _In a sense, yes, and in another, not at all_ Draco says.  _All magic is channeled through the soul, but your soul stays within your body, within yourself. You can't remote summon, for instance._

"Whereas I split off bits of my soul to empower other things?" I ask, finally succeeding in summoning a jet of blue fire that barely didn't catch the grass underneath it ablaze--though some dead leaves did, and I hurried to stamp it out, wincing at the heat on my bare feet,

 

 _Less empower, more_ _imbue_ Draco corrects.  _Take this ring. Now it has a piece of you, a small one, inside it_ he says, and I wince. I hadn't meant to--!

 _Calm down. Focus on drawing your soul back_ Draco instructs, and I close my eyes and try to visualize my power flowing from the ring into myself--and feel a slight bit better.

"Huh. So I can undo it, that's a relief," I say, heaving a deep breathe. "Guess the shop Lacrimas just don't take soul magic . . . " I mutter.

 _No, just raw magic_ Draco says.  _We need to get you to harness that as well. For now, just focus on moving little bits of your soul to the ring and back and controlling your magic that way._

 

Given that Angel still seemed eons away and I had nothing better to do, I follow Draco's instructions. It tires me out eventually, though the long walk doesn't, and by the time the sun rises again in a new morning I'm light-headed and staggering.

 _Pff, you haven't made a bit of progress_ Draco comments, and I inwardly glare at him.

"Hey! Magic is hard!" I protest. "I shouldn't even be able to do it--!"

 _Oh right, that reminds me. Your magic. It IS odd_ Draco comments, and I nod,  _And now I understand why. You're world doesn't have Ethernanos, so the only magic you have IS soul magic. Souls are powerful--laddie, you could get into trouble if you go down that path too far_ the dragon warns, and I gulp.  _So I won't explain more. Stick with this, merely imbuing items with magic, and you'll be fine._

 

"So this magic . . . I could have done it in my world?" I wonder out-loud. 

 _Potentially_ Draco says.  _But without a magical medium, I'm not sure how. Anyways, does it matter? Now that you're here, you can utilize that magic properly._

"Right," I say--then stumble on my feet and sit down. "I need a break," I mutter, my head spinning.

 

 _Don't go to sleep here! You're in the middle of a field!_ Draco cries, but I can't help it. It feels like my magic is being drained away by something, and I was already exhausted . . . now I could feel my vision starts to spin . . . 


	9. Connection

_Daz? Daz, what are you doing here?!_ Angel cries, and I open my eyes to see that . . . I'm in a starry void? What?

 _Where am I?_ I think, looking around for Angel.

 _You're dreaming--you're just dreaming_ Angel replies from somewhere far away.  _But WHY are you trying to contact me?!_

 _Because I'm worried about you!_ I reply.  _I heard you crying out last time I slept--are you hurt?!_

 _What's it to you_ Angel replies bitterly.  _Why would you care?_

 

I heave an sigh. Her and Draco both. Were all Celestial Spirits this suspicious?  _I'm worried about you--you're my FRIEND_ I think, then gasp as the dream-world starts to shake.

 _WE ARE NOT FRIENDS_ Angel roars, and I clap my hands over my ears to no avail.  _Friends--how can we be friends?! We just met!_

I wince--she had a point there.  _Well I wanna be your friend--_ I start, but Angel just breaks out into ear-piercing laughter.

_Why?! So you can manipulate me too?! Make some kind of contract binding me to you?!_

 

 _Wha--no?_ I reply.  _Why would I do that?_

 _You're a Soul-Wizard_ Angel says accusingly.  _Why wouldn't you?_

 _Because I'm not a raging asshole?_ I reply.  _And I only JUST learned about that soul thingy, I didn't do it on  purpose!_

 _Ya. Right._ Angel says.  _And I'm a real angel. We can't change our natures, wizard._

 

I sigh. I'd heard  _that_ one before.  _Yes, we can_ I say.  _We can be whoever--whatever--we wanna be._

 _Pff. That's a story we tell children_ Angel says.  _And it's a tired cliche to boot. You can't change your nature any more than I can._

 _What do you mean by nature?_ I ask.  _Being a spirit? Nah, I can't change that. But if you mean like--how you act, how you think, what you go by, THAT you can change._

 _YA RIGHT_ Angel says. _I'm centuries old and I'm still the same as I always was._

 _Have you tried to change?_ I ask.  _And somehow I doubt you were always so cynical._

 

She never responded to that comment, and as the silence went on, the darkness started to fade. I could tell I would wake up soon, so I finally said, _Look Angel, if you don't want my help, that's fine, I'll go back home. But I promise I won't hold it over you._

 _Promises are useless_ Angel says automatically.  _And you'll run away, just like all the others. Just like . . ._

Her voice fades away with the last scraps of darkness, and I blink open my eyes.

 

Though it'd been dawn when I passed out, it looks like afternoon now, if I was judging my directions correctly. The field was empty of everything except wheat stalks and beetles.

I groan and stand up, thinking to myself  _Great, fall asleep in the field . . . anything coulda come and killed me!_

 _I'd have stopped them_ Draco says suddenly, and I look around for him before realizing he was using telepathy. 

 _You just always in my head?_ I ask, flying up a bit and setting off towards Angel again. 

 _Yes. Side-effect of the soul magic_ Draco says, and I groan.

 

 _I need to UNDO that_ I mentally groan, but Draco chuckles.

 _You don't need to on my account, unless you want your privacy back_.

 _Well that WOULD be nice_ I grumble, but I had to admit, the connection could save my life one day.

 _Yep. Pretty nifty, huh?_ Draco responds, and I groan.

 _This is gunna take some getting used to . . ._ I think.

 

Then I realize something.  _Wait, can Angel hear everything too?!_

 _I . . . believe so_ Draco mutters.  _Unless she's cut off somehow . . ._

 _She . . . she was in my dreams_ I say, quickly explaining the conversation. 

 

Draco falls silent, and I wonder if he, too, is questioning my motives . . . 

I sigh and just try to fly faster. The sooner I can talk to Angel, the sooner I can win her confidence . . . and Draco's too, hopefully. 

 _It's not that . . ._ Draco says with a sigh.  _You don't know what Angel's been through . . ._

 _And you do?_ I ask, and he falls silent again. Right, I shouldn't have asked--it's not his to tell.

 _Correct_ he says, and I inwardly glare.

 

"Okay dude, we need to set up some like boundaries," I say, crossing my arms. The fire ring isn't working well anyways. "I don't want you in my head all the time . . . it's just kinda weird."

 _You're the one who set up the connection_ Draco says mildly.  _It's up to you to sever it_.

I groan.  _How do I do that?_

 _Not sure_ Draco says.  _The magic is old, and even I've forgotten most of what I know about it._

"Grrreeeaaattt," I say, rubbing my face. "Just--forget it. I'll worry about this later."

 

 

I focus on flying, the fields beneath me changing occasionally to villages and even a big town or two, but nothing really happened. I got a few curious shouts from the people below when I flew past, but otherwise it was quiet. 

 

Then as the sun started to rise the next day, I spotted something in the distance: a  _huge_ mansion--more of a castle really--surrounded by a wall that must be a hundred feet high. Whoever was in there did  _not_ want company . . . but as I started to veer past it, I could feel the tug change directions to point towards somewhere in the castle.

 

I blink and stop, floating maybe a third of the way up the wall. "So she's in there . . . " I mutter. "But how can I get in?"

Suddenly there's a flash and Draco appears. "I believe you need assistance?" he says, and I nod.

"Can you . . . help me fly over the wall?" I ask, pointing upward.

"Trespassing are we?" Draco says with the dragon approximation of a raised eyebrow.

I wince. "Okay, maybe I'll try the gate first . . . " I say, flying around the huge structure to the massive portcullis and gate beyond. 

 

I land and look for a doorknocker or bell or  _something_ , but can't find a thing. 

"Hello!" I call as loud as I can. "Can someone let me in? I have business to discuss!"

I can hear nothing from within, but I patiently wait. Draco eventually lands on my shoulder, brooding. He definitely knew something I didn't . . . 

 

Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice behind me. "Ah, I see you brought me a Spirit," Angel says in a monotone voice, and I whirl around to see her--and gasp.


	10. Allies

"Angel!" I exclaim. "What happened to you?!"

The figure before me was only recognizable by her face--everything else had altered drastically. Her wings were scorched and bare in many places, revealing burnt flesh; only scraps remained of her dress, leaving her intimate parts bare; and heavy chains encircled her wrists, ankles, and neck. She looked . . . 

 _Like a slave_ I thought.

"Yes," Angel replies dully, and I wince--I forgot she could hear my thoughts, too. "I am a slave to Mistress Lynda. Now," she says, her voice taking a sharper note and her eyes shining eerily, "Hand over Draco's key. If you really are my _friend._ "

"Forget it!" I exclaim, and Draco just hisses, clutching my shoulder painfully. "Why would I give my key to a horrible abuser like you?!"

 

Angel frowns and starts to cry, but I just growl. "Cut that out Lynda!" Angel just continues to cry, but I stand firm. "I know you're using Doll magic, so quit it! Let Angel go!"

Angel jerks . . . and then starts to laugh, a racious sound. "So you saw through my trick. Well, it was a simple one," Angel says, her voice so unlike her own. "But you're a fool if you think I'll let my little pet go."

" _Celestial spirits are not pets!"_ I exclaim, and I see Angel flinch, her eyes for the briefest second returning to normal. "They're people, as valuable as you or I! How--"

"Enough!" Angel-Lynda shouts, and tries to slap me. "I won't be lectured by a pathetic ghost," she says, and I blink. "Oh yes, Angel told me  _all about you_ ," Angel-Lynda says with a sadistic grin.

I bristle. "And how much did you torture her to do that?!"

 

The possessed spirit laughs, but I can see tears in Angel's eyes. "Oh, I didn't torture her for  _that_ , she told me freely!" I feel a twinge of disappointment, but roughly shove it aside. 

"So you just beat her for disappearing?!" I shout, and Angel-Lynda nods.

"Slaves must be taught their lessons!" she says. "How else will they learn?"

"Oh I dunno,  _maybe by being nice to them?!"_ I exclaim. "Ever heard 'you attract more flies with honey than vinegar"?"

 

Angel-Lynda rolls her eyes. "Is _everything_ you say a cliche?" Not waiting for a response, she continues, "Whatever. Hand over your keys, and I'll let you live."

I shake my head. "Over my undead body," I challenge, looking Angel straight in the eye. "I'll keep my keys, and get yours--I won't let you mistreat your spirits so!"

"So you'd rob me?" Angel-Lynda says with a raised eyebrow. "How scandalous."

"I see it more as 'liberation'," I say hotly. "Would if I could I'd get you arrested, but I doubt the police would care," I say bitterly.

"They don't," Angel-Lynda says with a smug smile. "But they'll be  _so_ interested in someone robbing the richest person in the county!"

 

"Risk I'll have to take," I say. "If I go to jail, fine, I go to jail. But at least Angel will be free."

"Angel? Oh yes, your little pet-name for her," Angel-Lynda says. Then smiling wickedly, she adds, "I prefer 'pussycat'--it is her best feature." 

I bristle immediately, and on my shoulder Draco roars, "You defy the laws of nature you foul fiend! Release Angel from her contract, immediately!"

 

Something in me snaps, and I suddenly whirl around and march through the castle wall, turning myself and Draco intangible.

When we emerge on the other side, I make a beeline for the front door of the place. "Enough talk," I mutter. "Time to deal with this. Draco!" I say, and he snaps to. "If you were an evil witch, where'd you hide your keys?"

"On my person," Draco replies immediately. "We need to find Lynda."

"Can you try and sniff her out, or do dragons not do that?" I ask.

He recoils a little, then relaxes. "Under normal circumstances, no, we don't. But I'll make an except. For Angel," he says, and I nod.

"For Angel," I echo, pausing.

 

Draco launches off my shoulder and starts to fly around. I wait for him, glancing back at the gate and wondering why Lynda hadn't sent someone after me yet--

\--no sooner had that thought crossed my mind then I hear the front door of the castle itself slam open. I whirl around and launch myself out of the way just as a huge, bronze man charges past me.

"Whoa, who are you?!" I cry and the man slams into the wall hard enough to leave an impression before turning and charging me again.

"Hercules!" Draco cries from above. "The hero of legend!"

"Oh GREAT," I say, jumping to the side again as he rushes past.

 

Then, getting an idea, I leap up into the air--

\--and feel a sword plunge into my back.

I  _scream_ as I feel the metal split my skin, and rapidly weaken as my magic flows out like blood. I reach around and pull the blade out, and mercifully the wound vanishes, though the pain lingers on.

I grit my teeth to keep from crying and whirl around, only to barely dodge another sword thrown at me. "Where are those coming from?!" I cry, looking between all the arrow-slit windows for the attacker.

 

"Up here!" Draco calls, flying up to an upper window and artfully dodging another sword. "It's Stagitta!" 

"The arrow spirit?!" I say. "Then why--OOF!" I cry as I feel Hercules grab me by the foot and slam me into the ground. 

I lay there for a moment, dazed, and the giant of a man falls on top of me. "Got you!" he cries, voice oddly metallic. He looked like he was made of bronze--maybe he was merely a living statue?

In any case, he weighed a ton--perhaps literally, the guy left deep footsteps on the grass--so I couldn't move--until I simply phased through him and leaped back up into the air--only to get skewered again. 

I cry out and look up just in time to dodge another sword. Draco had disappeared--I could sense he was still on this plane, but I couldn't spot the little dragon.

 

No time to contact him though, as Hercules got up and Sagitta threw another sword at me. I dodge and the sword flies into Herclues, pinking off of his metal skin. 

He lunges upward and in trying to dodge him I get sliced by a passing blade, crying out again. Ugh, I really was a wimp.

The swords thrown had all disappeared, and with my magic being unreliable, I decide to ditch the fight and head inside. 

 

I start to fly at the wall and try to phase through it--but end up smashing against some force field. Groaning, I recover just as Hercules leaps up and grabs me again. "Stay still!" he cries as we fall back to earth. "Then you won't be hurt!"

I blink, then look down at him. "What are your orders, exactly?" I ask. It finally occurs to me these guys have no reason to be loyal to Lynda, if she treated them like she did Angel . . . 

Hercules looks away, lips tight.  I sigh and say, "Hey, Hercules. If I can help you and Sagitta and anyone else stuck with Lynda, I will. But I need you to help me help you, okay?"

He doesn't reply, just staring at the gate. I look that way as well, and see Angel almost hidden in the shadow of the wall, staring at us intently.

 

 _Ahhh, that explains it_ I think. But still, as I stay still, Hercules and Sagitta don't attack, nor does Angel advance. Hmm . . . .

I examine my ring, thinking. If I attacked Hercules he would be forced to let me go, but I didn't--I don't want to hurt them. They're just following orders more likely than not.

I look up at the window where Sagitta is and call to her, "So are your guys orders to keep me from going inside the castle?"

Sagitta pokes her head out and nods, warily glancing at where Angel is--but I can tell that the line of vision is broken by the wall. Score! Time for twenty-questions then.

 

"What about leaving the grounds?" Nod. "To wait till Lynda gets here?" No. No? "Till she catches Draco?" No. "Till she gets my keys?" Nod. "Are you supposed to take them?" No. "Hercules?" No. "Angel?" Nod. Ahhhh. But why wasn't Angel moving then . . . ?

I look at her again, and see that Angel seems frozen in place. Was Lynda distracted and forgetting to control her? 

I decide to take a chance. "Hercules, shouldn't you deliver me to Angel?" I ask, looking down at him. He looks up at me, eyes wide, but I just smile and say, "Don't worry, I have a plan," I say in a low voice.

 

He wavers for a moment, but eventually starts to walk forward to where Angel is, dragging me through the air by the foot. 

When we reach Angel, I see that she is indeed still, and her eyes are back to normal. Lynda seemed to be busy with . . . something. 

I had to chance it.

I take Angel and Draco's keys from my pockets, leaning over, place them in Angel's hands. She doesn't react at all, but Hercules cries out, "No! You'll doom them both!" he says, looking at me wildly.

"You can let go now you know," I say, and he blinks. "Your orders were to hold me till Angel got my keys, right? Well, she has them," I say, and I see the gears turning in his head.

He slowly lets go, and I float down--and take the keys back from Angel's still-limp hands. 

 

Hercules makes a move to grab me again, but I jump back and say, "Hey, you don't haveta do that!"

"I don't?" Hercules says, pausing.

I nod quickly. "To hold me till Angel gets my keys, right? But did Lynda say anything about re-capturing me if I took them back?" I ask, and the Greek hero slowly shakes his head. 

"'Keep hold until pussycat has the keys,' that's what she ordered," he says slowly. "But pussycat doesn't have the keys now . . . ?" he says, looking at me, confused.

 

I think quickly, then brighten. "Did she say  _which_ Angel?" I say, and Hercules just looks at me like I have two heads.

I grin, and grab ahold of Angel with one hand, and her key in my other. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on pulling Angel through her gate-- _Come on Angel, please come to me! You're bound to me, so obey!_

There's a shimmer in the air, and what looks like a ghost of Angel appears next to me. "Daz?" she asks. "How the stars did you do that . . . ?"

 

I sway a little on my feet, then say, "Soul wizard, right? So I pulled off some of you soul," I say, pointing at the other Angel. She turns to look at her duplicate and tilts her head.

"I didn't know you could do that," she says slowly.

"Me neither," I say, and Angel whirls around to look at me. "It was a chance, but I had to try it. Now, here," I say, handing her Draco's and her keys. "Keep them safe, please," I say.

 

Angel looks down at her hands and starts to shake. "I have to--I have to obey Lynda--" she says shakily. "If she orders me to give her these keys, I have to obey!"

"That's why you're not staying here," I say firmly, and Angel's eyes widen. "Lynda uses telepathy to command you, right?" I ask, and she nods.

"I can hear her from anywhere . . . " she says shakily.

I shake my head. "Our telepathic link has a range, and I bet Lynda's does as well. How else did you get to Magnolia?" I ask, and Angel looks thoughtful.

"True enough . . . it wasn't till I went back to the spirit world that I could be commanded again," she says slowly. "Alright. I'll go away and take these out of reach," she says, jingling the keys. Then looking at her duplicate, she sighs. "But if  _that_ Angel gets ordered to follow me . . . "

 

"Can you carry her?" I ask, and Angel blinks. "I know it's weird," I add. "But can you carry her away as well?"

"But what if she wakes up?" Angel asks, and I grimace.

"Then you might have a fight on your hands . . . " I say.

 

Suddenly, a voice behind me speaks up. "Ya dun haveta worry 'bout that," it says, and I look around to see Sagitta. "Ma orders are to guard Angel," she says. "Not specific which one. I can carry the statue version," she says, walking over and picking the frozen Angel up and slinging her over her broad shoulders. "Angel dear, we should head in opposite directions," she says, looking up at the ghostly version, whose shoulders sag in relief.

"Thank Sagitta--I owe you," she says.

Sagitta shrugs as best she can and says, "If this helps us be free it'll be worth it. Now Hercules," she says, looking at the very-confused giant. "Ya free from new ordas, same as me. Back to basics, then," she says.

He groans and says, "Dishes then," he says, lumbering off.

 

I watch him go, then look back at Sagitta and see Angel has flown off. "Thank you," I say to the arrow spirit.

"Just get our keys," Sagitta says intently. "Ther's anotha' one in there," she says, jerking her head at the castle. "Grus. Keep clear o' her, key? She's been through enough," she says, and I nod.

"Gotcha. Avoid Grus, find the keys. Can I get in through your window?" I ask, and Sagitta nods. 

"Only thro' tha', so remember it," she says, and I nod.

"Will do. Any other advice you can give?" I ask, and Sagitta bites her lip.

 

After a few moments of internal struggle, she says, "Mistress Lynda is the most powerful mage in the country," she says, and I roll my eyes. "Don't underestimate her," Sagitta says hurriedly. "Now go! Hurry! Draco can't hold her off forever!"

I nod and take off, and hear behind me Sagitta opening the heavy gate to the outdoors. 

 

Flying through the Sagitta's open window, I find myself in a medieval corridor, all cobblestone with a thin rug lining the floor. I pause for a moment to try and hear if anyone was around, then shrug and head to the left, then to the right, then left and right and right and up a staircase and down a shaft and through an archway and after only a few moments I found myself well and truly lost.

 

Still, I hurried, listening intently for Lynda or Draco, trying to follow the latter's soul pull, trying to get there before Lynda realized what was up, before it was too late . . . !


	11. Tortured Spirit

_Draco! Draco, where are you?!_ I mentally shout as I zoom down hallways and through archways and into countless rooms. I can't hear him--or anything for that matter. 

 _Draco! Respond! Please!_ I call out, but I feel like there's a wall between us. Lynda's magic maybe? I wasn't sure.

One thing was clear--she wasn't anywhere in the main part of the castle. I flew through the entirety of the upper levels, phasing through walls and keeping my eyes peeled for some--any--movement, but the upper floors had only old furniture.

 

Finally I reach the ground level and end up in a grand foyer, and scream out in frustration. "Where ARE you Lynda?!" 

No response. I grit my teeth and whirl around, trying to see if there's anywhere I hadn't been. Did I miss a hallway? A room? A doorway?

Then I hear something, faintly--a pained roar. I freeze--Draco! He was in trouble! But where was he?!

I keep turning around and around but I can't see seem to pinpoint the noise--it was almost like it was coming from--beneath me?!

 

I press my ear against the stone floor, and I hear the roaring coming clearer, and my eyes widen. A dungeon?! I'd searched for a basement door, but I hadn't been able to find one anywhere.

Then I grinned--who needed doorways when  you were a ghost? I turned intangible, and fell through the floor.

I fell down and down and down--how deep was this place? Just when I was sure I had been mistaken and I was just falling through the earth itself, I feel myself enter open air.

Catching myself, I float in place and try to see in the darkness. Then I get a brainwave and ignite a flame in my palm and look around--and gasp.

 

Rusty chains dully reflected the fire, the blood-splattered walls seeming to absorb the faint light. I turn slowly and saw that I was in a massive dungeon--lining the walls were chains, and filling the space were torture devices of various kinds: the iron maiden, a blood-splattered table with a case of knives next to it, a device for tearing limbs from their sockets. I shuttered--and grew pale when I saw that the chains weren't all  _empty_.

Skeletons in various states of decay and dismemberment hung from their chains--the newest one looked a few months old, judging by the state of decay. I gulp--is this what happened to previous 'rescuers'? Is that what Angel was warning me about?

 

Suddenly Draco roars again, shaking me from my thoughts. I whirl around and shoot towards the sound, passing through a heavy, iron door and into a blindingly-bright room.

I shield my eyes and hear Draco scream, "Daz! Watch out!"

"For wh--AGH!" I scream as something swings into my side and slams me into wall. I collapse to the ground, head spinning and side dripping magic blood from my gashed side. 

Then I feel a blade at my throat and look up at a severe, gaunt woman in a flowing, white kimono. The woman does not speak for a long moment, so I finally ask, "Lynda?" She shakes her head. Who then . . . ? A thought crosses my mind. "Grus?" I ask, for her kimono  _was_ decorated with feathers . . . .

She nodded, and in a distinctly bird-like voice says, "Master Lynda orders your death. I'm sorry," she says, squeezing her eyes shut as she shoves the blade through me--

 

But I let it phase harmlessly through my body, then stand. "Grus," I say gently. "I don't want to fight you. Please. There must be some loophole--"

"It's useless," Draco spits, and I turn and finally see Draco chained to the wall spread-eagle. He was covered in gashes and I can't help but cry out. "I'm fine!" he snaps. "But you need to kill Grus!"

"No!" I cry, looking between him and the crane spirit.

She finally opens her eyes and sees her sword through me but myself still standing, and she mutters, "This wasn't . . . in the orders . . . ."

 "What were your orders specifically?" I ask, and she freezes. "Can you not say?" I ask, and she slowly nods.

 

Okay. Lynda ordered her around pretty thoroughly. I take a deep breath and say, "Are you ordered to guard Draco?" I ask, but she doesn't reply.

Taking a chance, I take a step towards Draco, and she pivots to keep impaling me, but makes no other move. Getting to my dragon friend, I see that study locks on his chains, and frown.

"Draco, can you withstand fire?" I ask, and he nods.

"Yes--but aren't you ignoring the real problem?" he asks, glaring back at Grus.

 

I sigh. "I don't wanna kill her," I say as I start up my fire ring. Draco opens his mouth to protest, so I hurriedly add, "Look, it's not her fault!" I exclaim. "If Lynda ordered her to torture you, that's not Grus' fault, she had no choice!"

"So you're just gunna let her continue to hurt me?!" he exclaims.

I shake my head violently. "Look, she's ignoring you right now, right?" I say, focusing on melting the locks. "She's focused on hurting me, not you. So it's fine," I say.

Draco frowns. "How long can you keep it up though?" he asks, and I wince. I wasn't sure at that--but I needed to focus on freeing Draco first.

 

"Ah ha!" I finally say, as the metal finally melts off of Draco and onto the floor. He gingerly pries his limbs free, then tries to take off--but immediately falling to the ground, his wings fluttering uselessly.

"Draco!" I cry, catching him. He looks up at me balefully, then clambers up to my shoulder.

"It would appear my wings are too battered to fly," he hisses. " I wonder  _why_ that is," he adds.

I sigh and turn to look at Grus--she didn't seem to feel guilty, but it was hard to see any emotion besides despair in her face. "I'm sorry, Draco," I say with feeling, but he just grunts.

 

"Whatever. Go defeat that Lynda bitch before she orders Grus to shred me any more," he says.

I nod. "Right!" I say, marching forward--or starting to, but Grus moved into my way. Her sword is still sticking through my middle, and I had to admit it was starting to feel more solid--I couldn't stay intangible much longer.

"Grus, please," I say. "Let me go. You can follow us, if your orders force you to, but please. Once I defeat Lynda, you all will be free. Won't that be nice?" I ask, looking at her hopefully.

Grus doesn't respond, so I continue, "I just need to get her keys, that's it. Then you won't be under her orders, right?" I ask.

Her eyes move ever so slightly to the side, but she stays put. "No," she eventually says, voice full of despair.

 

"No?" I ask. "Why not?"

"Contract . . . will not be void," Grus says slowly, jerking as though in pain. "Contract . . . binds us . . . Contract--" she hisses, clutching her middle.

"Okay okay, you don't have to talk," I say quickly, instinctively putting my hands on hers. She looks up at me curiously, then steps back. 

I take a deep breath and say, "It isn't Celestial magic she's using, is it? It's some kind of magical contract that you have to obey?" I ask, and she nods, though it seems to pain her greatly to do so.

 

"That's why Angel wants her dead, isn't . . . " I mutter to myself, and am surprised when Grus speaks again. 

"Death . . . will not . . . free us . . . " she says, looking down. "Contract . . . is eternal . . . " she whispers.

I pause and think for a few moments. "Draco, that's like your contract, right? It goes from father to son?"

Draco had been contemplative this whole time, but now he says, " . . . Yes. It seems Lynda uses that old form of magic. But how can it apply after she's dead . . . ?" he wonders out-loud. "I doubt that bitch has an heir."

 

I think for a minute. "Grus. Is Lynda a ghost?" I ask, and the crane spirit jerks. 

"How did--?" she starts, then cries out in pain, doubling over.

"No, no, I'm sorry!" I cry out, hurrying over to support her. She leans on me instinctively, for a moment her orders forgotten. 

We stay like that for a moment, and Grus finally drops her sword. To my alarm, her kimono starts to turn red, and I say, "Grus, no! Can I help you? I have fire magic, can it staunch the wound?" I ask, but she shakes her head.

"Nothing . . . can stop . . . I was . . . bad . . . I--" she writhes for a moment and I can do nothing but stand there helplessly. 

"Destroy the contract," she says quickly, her form starting to fade away. "In vault--paper--destroy--" 

 

And she was gone.

 

A long minute later, I finally move. "She's gone . . . " I say.

"For now. Lynda can always re-summon her," Draco says.

"I--I didn't want to hurt her!" I cry. "She--I shoulda--"

"Daz, quit it," Draco says. "We need to hurry. The vault she said. Did you spot one on the way here?" 

 

I collect myself and shake my head. "N-no. No vault. Which means it should be down here somewhere . . . " I say, looking around the torch-lit room, then walking out to the main torture room, taking the torch with me.

Time to search this damned dungeon, and hopefully, free Grus, and Angel, and all the rest--!


	12. Another Way

"Looking for something?" a voice calls as I emerge from the basement stairwell, and I look up sharply to try and spot the speaker.

No one seemed to be there, still, I advance  slowly, Draco growling from his perch on my shoulder. "Careful Daz," he mutters, and I nod.

I walk through the kitchen, looking for the speaker, when suddenly I feel something slam into my side, bowling me over. 

 

I cry out and slam into the ground hard, Draco's claws digging painfully into my shoulder. I groan and sit up, only to feel something kick me in the stomach, winding me. 

"Did you really think it'd be so easy?" a female says, and I look up to see--nothing. But still, something hauls me to my feet by my shirt collar. I grin, and swing a punch at the air in front of me--just as the invisible assailant does the same. "OOF!" we both call out , and the woman drops me.

I land on my feet and sweep my leg to kick the woman , feeling it connect as the woman grunts in pain.

 

Then suddenly something knocks into my supporting leg and I crash onto the floor, Draco rolling away as someone pins me down. I stare up at the air in front of me and glare. "Lynda, I presume?" I ask.

"Of course," she says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice. Suddenly one hand is free, and I swing it in front of my face just in time to block her punch. 

"Ruudddeee," I say as she draws her hand back--I don't waste a second, and punch forward, feeling my hand connect when hers hit my face. 

 

 _We're not getting anywhere like this_ I think, then blink as suddenly a jet of flame shoots over my head and hits the assailant, who screams in pain and lurches backward.

Hands free, I propel myself up, slamming my head into the woman's chest and knocking her backwards. 

I leap to my feet and kick forward, but my foot meets only air. I jump to the side, expecting another side-sweep, and feel something just brush past me.

 

I raise my hand and shoot a ray of fire at the stop, and grin when Lynda cries out in pain. "You bitch!" she cries, and suddenly something slams into me and knocks me back--

But I keep my footing and slam my head forward into Lynda's--

 

She suddenly turns visible, wincing and rubbing her jaw. I freeze for a moment when I see her--she's just a kid! As tall as I was, but probably no older than fourteen.

I drop my hands and say, "Hey. Lynda. We don't have to do this--" I start, but she just laughs.

"You wanna kill me, right?!" she says, tears suddenly appearing in her eyes. "You and everyone else! Just because I treat my slaves as such," she says bitterly, looking away.

Draco hisses from wherever he hid himself, and I grit my teeth. "I don't wanna kill you, but I can't let you abuse your spirits so!" I cry.

 

She just rolls her eyes. "They're made to serve humanity," she says. "Why should it matter how I treat them?"

"They're still people! They have feelings, and hopes, and wishes; just like humans!" I cry. "Would you treat another man so?!"

"Yes," she says bluntly. "If I bought them, yes."

I glower at her for a moment, then rub my face. "Right. Can I  _buy_ them off you then?" I ask.

 

That seems makes her pause for a moment, and I feel my hopes rise. Would she agree?

" . . . sure. 5 million jewels apiece," she says eventually, crossing her arms. "I'll need the jewels to buy some human slaves."

 _That's totally illegal_ I think, but out-loud I say, "Well. Let's see. Draco, can we afford that?" I ask the air.

Lynda scoffs, but Draco pops his head out of a cupboard and says, "Depends on what we get for the shop--it was worth a good 10 million back in my day, but who knows what it's worth now."

"Including merchandise or not?" I ask as Lynda looks between us, bewildered. 

Draco shakes his head. "Not including, that's just the price of that plot of land. The merchandise is probably worth another 10, 15 million," he says slowly, and I can see him calculating the price.

 

"You  _seriously_ have that kind of money?!" Lynda finally exclaims. "No way!"

I nod curtly. "I own a curiosity shop in Magnolia," I say. "It's full of valuable items. So do you agree? My shop, and everything non-living inside, for the four keys?"

Lynda thinks for a moment . . . then smirks. "The shop for  _one_ key," she says, crossing her arms. "I doubt it's worth so much," she says, tossing her hair. "So what'll it be, wizard?"

 

I pause for a moment. If I agreed, I could buy Angel's key--and when she inevitably replaced Angel with a slave, I could get her arrested--

I look down, and I hear Draco make noises of concern. He certainly wouldn't agree to this, but I was his master--

\--no. I was his friend. His  _friend._ I didn't  _own_ him. Even if I owned his key, I didn't own  _him_.

This was all wrong--I couldn't just buy the spirits like they were property!

 

I slowly nod, and look up, holding out my hand. "Let me see the keys, I'll pick one."

Lynda eyes me warily, then shakes her head. "Sign a contract first," she says. "I don't want you to cheat me."

To her obvious surprise, I nod. "Alrighty. Guessing you have pen and paper?"

She blinks rapidly, then pulls a scrap of paper and a pen out of a pocket. "Always. Now--all your property for a key," she says, raising her pen.

"No," I say immediately. "Not all my property. The  _shop_ for a key," I say.

She pouts for a moment, then scribbles something. "Here. Sign on the line, and I'll let you see the keys," she says.

 

I read the messy handwriting slowly: "In return for one curiosity shop and all contents within, the signer will receive one key from Lynda Lilica," and her signature.

I nod slowly, and raise the pen. "Daz! Don't!" Draco cries. "You don't know what all is in there!" 

I sign the paper and hand it back, and Lynda hands me the keys. "I organized the whole shop," I remind Draco gently. "I know what's in there."

 

I examine the keys, hoping against hope that my plan will work. Closing my eyes, I reach out to the spirits--or try to.  _Angel . . . Sagitta . . . Hercules . . . Grus . . . goodbye. It was nice meeting you._ I think--

And with a suddenly burst of strength, snap their keys in half.


	13. Choice

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Lynda cries, as the broken keys in my hand fade away to nothing.

"Freeing them," I reply. "I'd rather never see them again then let them continue to be abused by  _you_ ," I say.

"But--but--the contract!" she cries, clutching herself. "You can't--they're bound to me! They can't leave!" 

 

I growl. "What kind of contract  _is_ this!?" I exclaim. "They get hurt whenever they disobey you, they can't leave, they can't do  _anything!_ What the hell Lynda?!" 

"It was to make them obedient!" she cries. "I had to! They'd leave otherwise!"

I close my eyes and say slowly, "If they loved you, they'd stay you know," I say, my form starting to glow as my power built. "They can come back whenever they wish," I say, and yes, from a far distance I feel my bit of soul--

I gently pull it out of Angel, and feel myself grow just a bit stronger. Then, closer, I feel the bit in Draco, and pull it back.

 

"What are you doing Daz?!" Draco cries, his voice much fainter than before.

"Giving you a choice," I reply, opening my eyes. "I won't be a slave owner, I won't be a tyrant. You can stay and go as you please," I say.

"But--" Draco starts, but suddenly he vanishes. I sigh--I knew that'd happen. He was too injured.

 

"You're a fool," Lynda says suddenly, and I look back at her. "You've left yourself defenseless," she says, lunging forward.

I side-step and hammer my fists into her back, knocking her onto the floor. "Stop it Lynda," I say. walking towards the wall to the outside. "Our business is through."

"It's through when I say it's through!" she exclaims, and I cry out as something pierces my back. 

 

I lurch forward and fall to one knee as Lynda lunges forward and plunges another knife into my back. "You ruined me!" she cries. "How will I live without them?!" she says, as she plunges the knife over and over again.

"You're a  _ghost!"_ I exclaim. "Why do you need them?!" 

Lynda pauses for a moment, giving me the chance to buck her off of me. She spills onto the floor as I scramble to my feet, my back dripping raw magic onto the floor. 

I whirl around and see her curled up. "I'm not a ghost . . . I'm not . . . I'm not!" she cries. "I'm just an immortal!"

" . . . right," I say sarcastically. "And I'm the King of England."

 

The comment goes over her head as she sits and shakes. I sigh and walk over, sitting down next to her. "Hey," I say softly. "Being a ghost isn't all that bad--" I say, tentatively placing a hand on her back, but she jerks away.

"I told you, I'm not a ghost!" she exclaims, looking at me wildly. "I can't be! Not with my deal!"

"What deal?" I ask, withdrawing my hand.

Lynda lowers her head and whispers, "I live off of their magic. I--they're bound to me. Their lives sustain me."

My eyes widen as I realize what she's saying. "You  _sap the life from them?!"_ I cry. "That's--that's horrible!"

 

"It was the only way!" she snaps, glaring at me with tears in her eyes. "I was dying! I was so sick--if I didn't make that deal, then I would be dead!"

"Pretty sure you did die and you're just a ghost," I say again, pointing at where my flames had burned away her dress had burned away, leaving her flesh perfectly fine beneath. 

She looks down and starts to shake. "No--no! I can't be dead! I can't! My deal--!"

"I doubt spirits have the power to keep someone alive forever," I say gently. "They can give you magic, sustain a soul--but that's it. I think," I say.

 

"But now they're gone--I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!" Lynda cries, shaking even harder. 

I sigh and rub my face. "No one does," I start to say, but she lets out a harsh laugh.

"How would you understand?! You aren't at risk of dying!" she exclaims.

"I could fade away at any time," I point out. "So ya I kinda get it."

 

 

She doesn't reply, and after a few minutes I stand. "I need to go back home," I say, starting to walk away.

"So you'll just leave me to die?" she asks, not looking at me.

I pause. "The others want you dead, you know," I say quietly. "Specifically asked for it."

"Of course they did," she says, voice resigned. "Can't say I blame them."

"I should let you die," I say, looking out the window at the free skies, thinking of Angel and the others. "You certainly deserve it."

"Then leave," she says. "Get out of here."

 

_Right. My work here is done_ I think, but. I waver.

I stare at the ground for a long time, eventually saying, "Lynda. Would you like to work at my shop?" I ask, turning to look at her incredulous face.

" _What?_ " she says. "Why would I wanna work at your grimy little store?!"

I grit my teeth, then force myself to say evenly, "You probably will need magic often, if you're used to drawing on four spirits. You're already starting to fade," I point out, and she yips and looks down. "I can provide you magic, but I need you to stay close."

"So you can keep an eye on me?" she asks hotly.

"So I can  _help_ you," I say. "The soul bit thingy has a range."

 

"You-you'd give me a piece of your  _soul?_ " she asks, shocked.

I nod. "It'll help you stay here, I think," I say. "It also will give us a telepathic link--I don't know how to turn that off," I say.

"So you'll always be bugging me, no thanks," Lynda says with a shake of her head.

"Take this seriously!" I say. "It's the only way I can keep you alive, I think. It's that or die."

 

She looks away. " . . . I rather die," she says quietly.

"Seriously?" I ask. "Weren't you so afraid of dying a moment ago?"

"If it means having  _you_ watching over my shoulder for eternity, life isn't worth it," she says. "You're too much of a goodie-two-shoes, you'll just drive me nuts."

I stare at her and shake my head.  _That_ was her concern?

 

Long minutes pass until I sigh and turn away. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me," I say, flying up into the air and out of the mansion.

 

Once clear of the poisonous place, I get my bearings, and start the long, long, long trip back to Magnolia.

 

 

 

As I fly, I can't help but think of spirits, and Lynda, and magic. Celestial magic . . . wasn't it just slavery in another form? The spirits had to obey, or face exile and death . . . Leo's fate showed that clear enough. But owners like Lynda . . . .

I couldn't . . . I couldn't do that. I don't know where my keys were, but if I had them, I'd just break them as well. If Draco and Angel wanted to come back and give me their keys, they could--but I wouldn't force them.

If they could--I wasn't even sure of that. I knew that Aquarius' key reappeared after a year, but how would the non-Zodiac keys work? Leo had manifested his . . . could the others?

 

After flying for a night I felt a tiny pull on my soul--the keys! I had to be! I deviate immediately and follow the pull, a few hours later arriving at a field. I land and start searching--eventually, by sheer luck, I see glinting in the grass. 

I hurry over and pick up my two silver keys, giddy to have them back. "Alright!" I declare.

Then I remember what I had thought, what I had said, and grow somber. I had to break them, to free them. 

I try to bend the metal as I had before, but it didn't budge. I frown and put more force into it, but still the keys remained the same.

 

I realize that my heart isn't in it, and sigh. I didn't want to lose Angel and Draco--but I had to do this. They stuck with me because they had to, not because they cared about me, I reminded myself.

With that thought circling in my head, I scream out as I put all my strength into snapping the keys.

 

As before, they crumbled to dust once broken, and I fell to my knees, panting heavily.  _That took alot of magic_ I think, my vision going a bit fuzzy.

I lay down, and after a few moments, drift off to sleep . . . . 

 


	14. I Want to be Your Friend

"Daz . . . Daz! Wake up!" a voice calls--Angel? But it can't--

"Wake up you idiot!" she says, and I feel someone shaking me.

"Oy, I'm awake, I'm awake," I grumble, opening my eyes to see--Angel! It was her!

She grins at the overjoyed expression on my face, and says, "What, did you think you could rid of me that easily?" she says.

 

"Or me," Draco says, flying over--and only then did I realize I was back at the shop. "We have a contract, remember?" he says, and I wince. 

"I don't want to be bind you--" I start, but Draco just scoffs.

"I agreed to it you idiot. You didn't force me to," he says.

 

"Not like . . . Lynda . . . " a quiet voice says, and I look to the side to see Grus standing there--not just her, but Sagitta and Hercules too!

I blink and sit up. "What are . . . what are you all doing here?" I ask, looking between the spirits. "I freed you--"

Angel rolls her eyes and slaps me upside the head. "You didn't  _ask_ if we wanted to be free. We wanna stay with you!" she says, and the others nod.

"Ya a good person," Sagitta says. "We'd rather be bound to ya."

"Daz is nice," Hercules says with a nod. "Good master."

Grus looked away, but I thought I heard her mutter, "Better you . . . than others . . . "

 

I shake my head. "I appreciate the flattery, but--"

"No buts," Angel says, holding up her key and placing it in my hand. "We want you to have our keys."

I stare down at the shiny, silver opener, and say slowly, "Key. A device used to unlock something--to free something. Not contain. My having your keys," I say, placing the device back in Angel's lap, "is locking you to me. I rather not do that."

Angel frowns. "But we need someone to have our keys! How else will we appear?" she says.

"How did you get here?" I point out, and she blinks.

 

"We can't . . . do this . . . for long . . . " Grus says, and I look over at her. "The strain . . . we need . . . to be summoned . . . to live . . . " she says, trailing off.

I think for a moment, then say, "You guys need a wizard's magic to sustain you, right?" I ask, and they nod. "Does it  _have_ to be through keys?" I ask.

They pause, contemplating that, and then Sagitta says, "How else?"

"Can ya'll draw power from Lacrima's?" I ask, and Angel shakes her head.

 

"No--I mean, I can, but most of us can't absorb Earthland magic," she explains. "The gate converts your magic to Celestial magic you see," she explains. 

I nod. "The same way my soul bit does, right?"

She pauses at that, and Draco pipes up, "Your soul converts Earthland magic to Celestial, yes, because you  _are_ a Celestial spirit."

I open my mouth to protest, but Angel cuts me off. "Not like--we are. You're a ghost, but you're magic is reeeeeaaalllyyy similar," she says. "So it works." 

 

I think for a minute, studying my hands. "If . . . if you all had a bit of my soul . . .would you be able to come and go as you please?" I ask, looking at them.

It's Draco who replies. "Possibly. We'd need to keep our keys to summon ourselves--but we could do it off your magic. But that's  _advanced_ soul magic," he warns. "Doing it wrong can kill you."

"Won't that . . . just bind us . . . like Lynda . . . ?" Grus asks, and I shake my head vehemently.

"No. No. Not--Angel can attest, I don't do it that way."

"He's being honest there," Angel says. "He doesn't even know  _how_. Most this idiot can do is magic-channel and telepathy."

 

Sagitta snorts. "Well, that's all he needs to do, really. But, no offense Angel, how do we know we can trust him?" 

"How about no offense to me?" I mutter, but the others ignore me.

"He hasn't done me wrong yet," Draco says. "Despite making a contract, he made the terms quite fair. I'd trust him," he says loyally. 

 

The little dragon flies over to me and places a hand on my chest. "Go on Daz," he says softly. "Form the bond."

I smile warmly, and place a hand over Draco's. "As you wish," I say, closing my eyes.

Our practice from before helped, as I was able to pull out a little bit of my soul and place it into Draco, who gasps when it enters.

"Draco! Are you okay?!" Angel cries when he does so, and I open my eyes, alarmed.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?!" I cry out, looking at the red spirit anxiously.

 

Draco trembles for a moment, his form flickering. Then  suddenly, with a roar, he flies up--and grows in size!

"I'm back!" he cries out, circling around in the air as we all heave a sigh of relief. 

I watch him grow and finally settle on a size close to that of a Labrador--no more shoulder rides! I chuckle and say, "I didn't think it'd make you  _bigger_ ," I say.

Draco gruffles and lands on the floor next to me. "This is what I normally look like," he says. "I'd just been so magically-drained I couldn't maintain it."

 

I tilt my head. "Did I give you more of my soul than before?" I ask. I hadn't meant to--

"No," Draco says, interrupting my thoughts. "When you broke my key, you broke my tie to this shop--I had been maintaining it with my own magic. Now I have all that back--I just needed a good jolt to grow again."

I nod as he speaks, then look around the shop. "Well, looks like I'll need to keep the Lacrima's going then!" I say cheerfully.

 

"Do me next!" Angel says, and I jerk my head back to her. She pumps her fists and says, "I wanna make-over too!"

I chuckle and rub my forehead. "I don't think that'll happen--" I say, but Sagitta interrupts me.

"Angel dear changes to match her user," she says matter-of-factly. "She's made to please."

I pause at that. "Angel, what do  _you_ wanna look like?" I ask, and she blinks.

 

"What I--? But I don't look at me, you do!" she protests.

"But you should decide your form!" I cry. "Why should I dictate it?!"

She blinks and rubs her chin, eventually saying, "I totally don't know! I wanna look like whatever you want me to," she says.

I sigh. "That's not at  _all_ what I meant," I mutter, looking down.

"Hey," Angel says, tilting my head up to look at her. "I get that you want us to have anatomy and all, but--" she looks away. "I don't know what I want--for anything," she says softly.

I pause at that. "How about . . . when you decide, we re-do this so you can pick?" I ask.

 

She smiles at me and says, "I'd like that. So," she says, taking my hand in hers. "Give me a bit of your soul, please."

I return the smile and close my eyes again, focusing on pulling out a little bit of my spirit and passing it on to her--

As before, I hear a gasp, and my eyes flies open to see Angel enveloped in light. When it fades away, she's dressed in a flouncy, white dress and has golden hair, eyes, and wings. 

She looks over herself and nods. "Not bad! Not bad. Like an angel, yes?" she asks.

I chuckle and say, "Well, the wings would be white, but otherwise yes. I just thought all white would be boring."

"Trust me it is," Angel says, and I laugh again. 

 

"Now what about ya'll?" Angel says, looking over at the trio of spirits staring at us.

It's Sagitta who speaks up first. "I'm willing to give it a try--I'm the most disposable," she says, looking at her compatriots, who just nod. "If anything's fishy, just pop back out, k?" she says.

I resist the urge to say anything in my defense, and simply stand up. Sagitta walks over to me and looks me straight in the eye. "No funny business now, or Grus and Hercules will kill you," she warns.

I gulp and nod. "None at all, I swear."

I raise my hand and gingerly place it on Sagitta's armored chest as she humphs. 

 

I close my eyes and focus on my magic. I have to be careful here--really careful. I slowly divide off a piece of my soul, and try to focus on imbuing it with magic-absorbant and telepathic magic--though I doubt I really did anything at all, this magic was so new to me. 

I could sense Sagitta's impatience, so I put the bit of my soul in her, and open my eyes.

Nothing happens. She looks around, then says, "That's it?"

"That's it," I say. Then thinking, I say,  _Can you hear me now?_

_Yes_ Sagitta replies, her eyes widening. "So it worked?! And I--I'm the same?" she says, looking at herself.

 

"Well, you are customization like Angel or magic-deprived like myself, so why would you change?" Draco asks, and we look over at him.

"I dunno, I thought that--doesn't soul magic like, make you a puppet?" Sagitta asks.

"It can--" Draco says, but I interrupt.

"Even if it could, I wouldn't do it. I don't think I  _can,"_ I say. "All I can figure out how to do is channel magic. The telepathy is an accident."

Sagitta chuckles and shakes her head. "You are a  _newb_. How long have you studied magic, a week?" she asks.

"Less," Draco and I say simultaneously, to Sagitta's obvious surprise. "I'm not from this world," I explain--and the three rescued spirits.  _Sttttaaarrreeeee._

 

" . . . Right, ya'll didn't know that," I say, and Sagitta exclaims, "No! What the hell?!"

I wince and say, "Look--I didn't mean to hide it, I just--"

"How did you get here?" Grus demands, stamping over till she's a hair-breathe away from me. 

I cower back from her pointing finger and say, "I dunno--I died, I guess--"

"You guess?" Hercules says, crossing his arms. "You don't  _guess_ that."

 

"I--I can explain--" I stutter when Angel pipes up.

"Back off guys--he's telling the truth," she says, quickly recounting how she found me. 

"So you don't know how you got here?" Sagitta asks, and I shake my head.

"No. I can't really remember what even happened before this--last I know I was in the slave ring, then I woke up here!" I say.

 

"Wait, slave ring?" Sagitta asks, but it's Grus I focus on.

She had looked away from me, and I can see her eyes starting to shine. "Grus, are you okay?" I ask softly.

She shakes her head but doesn't respond.

"Can I help?" I ask, and another shake. Looking up at Sagitta and Hercules, I ask, "Not to pry, but what's wrong?"

They shake their heads. "We don't know," Sagitta admits.

"Grus was always silent," Angel explains, walking up next to her. "You're okay now Grus," she says softly, putting a hand on Grus' shoulder, but the crane just ignores her.

 

I think for a moment, then notice how Grus has one hand around her middle. "Grus . . . that bleeding. That wasn't from Lynda, was it?" I ask, and she shakes her head. "Are you . . . not from this world, or the Spirit world?" I ask, and she bites her bottom lip.

"Grus just showed up one day in the Spirit World," Angel says. "About when I did. We assumed she was one of us?" she asks.

"She is a Celestial Spirit, but," Draco says, flying over to my other side. He peers at Grus intently, and says, "There's something off about her magic."

"Like what?" I ask, looking at Draco--then startle as Grus suddenly starts to disappear.

 

"Grus!" I cry out as she vanishes. I look at the others frantically and say, "Will she be okay?!"

"I'll check," Angel says, fading away herself. I can vaguelly sense her thoughts, but I get distracted by Sagitta piping up.

"Look, why don't you leave her alone?" she asks.

I look at her steadily. "You can read my mind now. Answer that yourself," I say.

 

She narrows her eyes for a moment, and I feel a presence in my mind shuffling through my thoughts, memories, desires--it's uncomfortable, like someone raking their claws over my face, but I endure it. I wanted Sagitta to trust me.

Eventually, the sensation ends, and Sagitta's eyes soften. "You big baby, you don't have to save everyone," she says.

I look away and grip my arm tightly. "I have to try," I say softly. "I have to give a chance."

Sagitta sighs and shakes her head with a smile. "Well, you'll need someone protectin' your butt. Now Herc, she's cool. Join on up," she says, looking at the hulking statue.

 

Obediently Hercules walks over to me and holds out a hand. I look up at him and ask, "Do you really want this?" I ask. "I can undo it any time," I add quickly--I didn't want them to think they were trapped for life.

He nods. "Me wanna see what Saggy sees," he says. "Me wanna trust too."

"Okay," I say, taking his hand. The transfer takes only a moment, and then I once again feel that searching sensation--only now, it feels more like someone hammering at my skull.

I wince, but don't say anything--he needed to do this. 

 

Eventually the feeling stops, though my head now beat with a headache. Grreeeeaaattt.

"Sorry," Hercules says, and I look at him and wince.

"Sorry myself--I didn't mean to complain--" I say, but he shakes his head.

"Me not good with . . . mindy stuff," he says. "Will be careful next time."

I nod and say, "So we cool? Wanna stay my friend?" I ask.

Hercules looks contemplative for a minute, then says, " . . . friend. Yes. Me like that word," he says, and I grin.

 

"I do too," I say, then freeze as Angel suddenly appears and grabs me.

"Daz! You need to come! Grus is hurt--" she says, starting to fade.

"Whoa, humans can't go to the spirit world!" I cry out as I feel myself phasing out with her. "You'll get us in trouble!"

 

Too late. The world fades away . . . . 


	15. To Save A Life

When we emerge, the world is navy and starry and  _beautiful_. But I don't notice the aurora spires or gemstone pathways--what I see is Grus, collapsed in a puddle of blood.

"Grus!" I shout, or try to--I can't make a sound.

 _The spirit world has no air!_ Angel reminds me, pulling me over to Grus.  _Grus, Grus, can you hear me?!_ she shouts, placing a hand on the fallen girl.

The crane spirit doesn't respond.

 

I kneel down next to her and place my hands on her back, closing my eyes.  _Just give her magic . . . just magic_ I think to myself, feeling my power well up within me. 

I tentatively let my power flow into her, but she jerks and cries out. I remove my hands quickly, thinking,  _Wait, why did magic hurt her?!_

 _Is she . . . no. That's impossible . . ._ Angel thinks. 

 _What is? Is she like--allergic to magic?_ I ask, looking over at my winged friend.

Angel shakes her head.  _She can't be! She'd die like that!_

 _You mean like she is now?_ I point out, and Angel flinches.  _Sorry--I don't mean to be so blunt--but if she's allergic to magic, how has she lasted all these centuries?_

 _I don't know . . ._ Angel thinks. I can hear a bunch of jumbled words as she tries to think, but tune it out. I had an idea.

 

I gently place a hand on Grus and close my eyes again. My form starts to glow faintly, catching Angel's attention.

 _Daz, what are you doing?_ she asks, but I ignore her. This would be hard.

 I reach out with my soul, reach out to Grus' soul. I focus on the wound I can feel, feel the gaping wound, far worse than what it appeared. 

 _You've been losing yourself by pieces, haven't you?_ I think, and I faintly hear Grus reply.

 _Yes . . . it can't . . . be helped . . ._ she says.

I grit my teeth, and start to pour my essence, my spirit, filling in the gaps with my own body. I can feel myself start to fade a bit, get lighter, and I hear Angel cry out, but I keep going--

 

Until I feel a hand take mine and move it off Grus' back. I open my eyes and see that she's sat up and grabbed me, and she shakes her head.

 _That's . . . enough. You'll . . . kill yourself . . . ._   she says faintly. _I can . . . last like this . . ._  

I set my jaw and say, _No. I can replenish myself, you can't. See?_ I say, looking at my hand, which already looked a bit more solid.

Grus looks at it as well and her eyes widen. _H-how?_  she asks.

 _I think . . . because my body is magic,_ I say slowly. _But a magic that's malleable, converted to your kind--Earth's kind_ , I say, and Grus stares at me and starts to tremble.

 

 _Earth? She isn't from Earth_ Angel interrupts, but Grus just shakes her head.

 _I am--from a long, long time ago_ she says slowly.  _I was . . . murdered . . . and my spirit couldn't rest_   she says, voice trembling.  _I found myself here . . . in the Spirit World_ she says, looking up at the indigo sky. 

I follow her gaze, and see her constellation--the Crane.  _You turned into a Celestial Spirit_ I say softly.

She nods.  _It was already for awhile . . . but then I slowly . . . started to lose myself. I couldn't . . . the air on Earthland is poisonous to me. Here, it's fine, but . . ._ she looks down at the lavender-glass floor.  _I couldn't ever heal_ she whispers.

 

 _So you've . . . been surviving off of . . .what? I KNOW you've been killed in battle,_ Angel says, and Grus flinches.

 _I . . . I lived off of Lynda's soul_ she finally admits, adverting our gazes.

Angel gasps, but I just nod.  _All ghosts must be similar enough that the magic worked for you_ I say, and she nods.  _But then Lynda started to force you to stay on Earthland too long?_ I ask.

 _She . . . wouldn't let me go_ Grus says.  _I stayed for . . . weeks . . . no spirit . . . can withstand that_.

 _Well one can_ I think to myself, and ignore girl's curious glances. Later. 

 

I take Grus' hand again, and she looks at me questioningly.  _I can't . . . I can't be your spirit_ she says.  _I can't . . . it hurts too much . . . ._

 _I know_ I say.  _But I can still heal you_ I say, closing my eyes and focusing on doing just that.

 _But I can't repay you!_   Grus protests, making me roll my closed eyes.

 _I don't CARE_ I retort.  _You're hurt, I can help, so I'm gunna_ I say.

  _Why?_ she asks.  _I'm nobody to you--a stranger!_

 

I sigh. Everyone kept asking that. Why. Why did I  _need_ a reason?

 _Because it's kinda weird_ Angel replies.  _I don't even get it. Why DO you always interfere?_

I wince at that.  _I don't mean to interfere, I just wanna help!_ I exclaim.

 _But WHY?_ Grus asks.  _What is your reason?_ _Do you think you'll get something out of me eventually?_ she asks.

 

I groan and if my hands were occupied I'd facepalm.  _NOT EVERYTHING IS SO YOU GET SOMETHING!_ I mentally shout. I can feel Grus wince, and I quietly say sorry.

Neither girl responds, so after a moment I add,  _Look, if you_ must _have a selfish reason . . . . I have needed a hero many a time. Someone to interfere and help me--but. No one ever came. I can't . . ._ I trail off, tears coming to my eyes but I squeeze them away.

After a bit I feel Grus stir, and her soul seems as healed as it could be, so I remove my hands and sit back, though I dare not open my eyes lest I cry.

 

 _Daz_ Angel says gently,  _Look at me_.

I obey, and see that's she holding out her hand out to me. I tentatively take it, and she yanks me into a massive hug.  _Don't ever change. Please_ she whispers, and I smile.

 _I won't_ I reply.  _I promise._

 

After a long time I pull away, and see that Angel had teared up as well. I wipe her face with my hand, and she laughs.  _I'm not a baby like you_ she says, wiping the rest of her tears away herself.

 _Sorry . . . to interrupt . . . but we have a problem . . ._ Grus says, and I turn my head to look at her--and my eyes widen as I spot a giant racing towards us.

 _Right we needa leave NOW_ I say to Angel, grabbing her hand.  _Take us back!_  

 

Too late. The blue giant lands with a thud on the platform, cracking it slightly. He crosses his arms and glares down at us, booming,  _WHAT HUMAN HAS DARED ENTER MY DOMAIN?!_

 

Oh I was in so much trouble.


	16. Do No Harm

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap_ I think as the Celestial King glares down at me.

I'm frozen in place, but Angel recovers and stands up, marching forward. "Ya! A human in the spirit world. So what?!" she shouts, fists clenched. "If he hadn't come here, then Grus would have died!"

I stand myself and walk over in front of Angel. "Let me handle this," I say to her alone.

 

Facing the King, I take a deep breathe and fly up till I was level with his face. "Sir, I accept the responsibility for this," I say, bowing my head with a hand on my chest. "Please. If you must punish anyone, punish me."

"WAS IT YOUR IDEA TO COME HERE?" he asks, and I flinch.

"No, but it WAS my idea to help Grus--Hey!" I say as he looks away from me and down at Angel. "Don't punish her!" I say, flying back in front of his eyes.

"SHE BROKE THE SACRED LAWS OF THIS LAND,"the King says, raising a massive hand to bat me away.

I just go intangible and stay put. "No! I won't let you hurt her!" I cry. "She just did it to save someone else! That's not bad!"

 

"HUMANS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THIS WORLD"the King says, shaking his head. "I CANNOT TOLERATE THIS DESCRIPTION."

Thinking fast, I say, "But I'm not human! I'm a spirit too!" I say, hoping loopholes would save me again--

The King gives me an incredulous look and says, "YOU ARE A  _HUMAN_ SPIRIT. THE LAW STILL APPLIES,"he says. "NOW  _MOVE_ ," he says, trying to bat me away again.

 

Still intangible from before, the massive hand passes through me harmlessly. The King growls at that, and says, "DO NOT FORCE ME TO HARM YOU."

"Go ahead!" I shout, flying forward till I'm right in front of his right eye. "I rather you kill me than hurt Angel!"

The King pauses at that. "YOU CARE THAT MUCH FOR HER?" he asks.

 

"Yes!" I say. "She saved my life--she's my friend! I won't see her hurt by anyone, even you!!" I cry.

The King turns his head, and I fly back a moment to see what he's looking at. 

In the distance, Angel is flying off with Grus--is she trying to hide? 

"NO," the King says, and I jerk my head back towards him. "A SPIRIT'S HOME IS IN THEIR CONSTELLATION. SHE IS TAKING HER HOME."

 

I nod slowly, then heave a sigh of relief. Well, she was out of reach--

"I CAN GET OVER THERE IN A BLINK" the King says, interrupting my thoughts. "BUT FIRST I NEED TO DEAL WITH YOU," he says, glaring at me--though it made him a bit cross-eyed.

I back up so he can see me easier, and cross my arms. "You can't punish Angel for taking me here. Grus would surely have died otherwise!" I cry.

"AS YOU SAID BEFORE," the King says. "AND AS I SAID, THE LAW IS THE LAW."

"Screw the law!" I shout, and he blinks, then glares at me. "You're the KING! Can't you change it? Make an exception?"

 

"I MUST UPHOLD THE LAW, EVEN IF IT PAINS ME," he says. "OTHERWISE UTTER CHAOS WOULD REIGN."

"What kind of King are you if you let your people die when someone can save them?!" I retort. This seems to take him aback, so I continue, "A good King protects his people! Keeps them safe! Yet you would so easily sacrifice them to uphold a stupid rule?!" I say, thinking of Leo for a moment.

"ARE WE NOT DISCUSSING COLUMBA?" the King asks, and I glare at him.

"Angel. She  _prefers_ Angel!" I cry--hoping I'm right. But even the other spirits called her that . . . . 

"YES, I HAVE HEARD THAT NICKNAME GO AROUND," the King muses. "NOT PROPER, NOT PROPER AT ALL," he says, shaking his head.

 

"Why the hell not?!" I shout. "She's a person too! She should get to pick her damn name!"

"CELESTIAL SPIRITS AREN'T HUMANS," the King says. "WE WORK BY DIFFERENT LAWS, DIFFERENT WAYS."

"Oh, is one of those ways where you all act like property of humans?!" I exclaim. "That's ridiculous!"

"IT IS OUR WAY--" he starts, but I shake my head.

"No! No! I won't allow it!" I shout, glaring up at the King. "You guys are people! Beings with your own thoughts and ideas and wishes! Why shouldn't those matter?!"

"THEY INTERFERE WITH SERVING MANKIND _,"_ the King replies. "THAT IS WHAT WE WERE CREATED TO DO."

 

I pause for a moment, then slowly say, "Were you really created by humans?" I ask.

"OUR CONSTELLATIONS WERE" the King says. "AND FROM THEM WE EMERGED."

"But that doesn't . . . that doesn't mean humans  _own_ you," I say. "That doesn't make you our property! It just means--nothing! Nothing at all!" I exclaim. "For all we know, your constellations were named  _after_ you guys emerged!"

"EVERY SPIRIT EMERGED WHEN A MASS OF HUMANS NAMED THEIR CONSTELLATION," the King says, deflating that idea. 

I sigh, then shake myself. "But why should that make you humanities's slaves?!" I ask. "I say you all have as many rights as a human does!" I declare.

 

The King strokes his massive mustache for a moment, then says, "HOW DOES THIS RELATE TO ANGEL?"

"Because she broke the law to save a life!" I say. "Because a life is worth more than any law! That's true for humans, and for spirits!"

"NOT ALL HUMAN LAWMAKERS WOULD AGREE," the King says, shaking his head. "AND I CANNOT. THE LAW  _CANNOT BE CHANGED,"_ he says, leaning forward till his face is inches from mine.

I gulp, but stand by ground. "But exceptions can be made!" I declare, thinking again of the show, of all the times the rules were broken.

 

The King reads my mind, and eventually shakes his head. "THAT . . . THAT HAS NOT COME TO PASS, AND NEVER WILL," he says. "I CANNOT ALLOW IT."

"Why ever not?!" I exclaim. 

"I AM AS BOUND TO THE RULES AS EVERYONE ELSE," he says. "IT IS NOT IN MY POWER TO MAKE EXCEPTIONS."

I personally highly doubted that, but perhaps the anime wasn't as accurate as it should be. 

 

I think for a minute, then say, "Can you make new rules?"

"SURELY," he says. "I SIMPLY CANNOT REMOVE ONES MADE BEFORE I CAME INTO EXISTENCE."

"Wait humans not coming here is that old a rule?" I ask, my thought train temporarily de-railed.

"YES," he says. "IN TRUTH, I KNOW NOT HOW YOU ARE HERE. THAT SHOULDN'T BE POSSIBLE."

 

I think for a moment, then say, "Perhaps the soul thingy let's me take some of Angel's access," I say slowly, then clap my hands to my ears as the King roars.

"YOU MADE A SOUL CONTRACT WITH A SPIRIT?!" he cries. "UNACCEPTABLE! I CANNOT ALLOW IT!"

"Oh NOW you care about your people?" I say, crossing my arms. "Why should you care, if spirits are made to serve humanity?"

"THAT IS DIFFERENT" he says. "THIS VIOLATES THEIR VERY NATURE."

"And Grus dying doesn't?!" I exclaim. "How is that different?!"

 

He pauses for a moment, so I continue, "It isn't! I came here to save Grus' very soul--doesn't that count for something?!"

"I SUPPOSE YOU HAVE A POINT. I CANNOT DISALLOW SOUL CONTRACTS" he says, and I groan and bury my head in my hands.

"No no NO!" I shout, shaking my head vehemently. "You're supposed to say, "I see, Grus' life does matter!""

"IT DOES NOT, ANY MORE THAN ANY OTHER SPIRIT," the King says. "THAT IS OUR WAY."

 

I lower my hands and glare at him. "WHY?!" I shout. "WHY IS THAT YOUR WAY?! WHY WOULD YOU  _EVER_ MAKE THAT  _YOUR WAY?!"_

The King seems a little taken aback by the fury in my voice, on my face. But he replies, "IT WAS NOT MY DECISION. IT WAS MADE BY OUR CREATOR."

"Who is?!" I shout. "Point me to them so I can change their f-cking mind!" 

 

"IT WAS HUMANITY'S DECISION," the King replies. "CAN YOU CHANGE THE MINDS OF ALL HUMANS?"

I deflate a little, then shake myself. Not now! "Well THIS human says you guys matter!" I shout. "Doesn't that matter?! Humans don't agree on the color of a orange, much less on the fate of a race of beings! Ask a Celestial mage like the Lilath's, they'll say no! Ask the Heartfilia's, they will say spirits are as important as humans!"

The King strokes his mustache some more, and says, "I SUPPOSE YOU HAVE A POINT--HUMANS CANNOT AGREE ON ANYTHING. THE LAW IS BASELESS, THEN, FOR IT IS FORMED ENTIRELY ON HUMAN'S SINGULAR DESIRE. BUT . . . " he looks away, his face troubled.

"Exactly!" I say. "So throw away that stupid law! Make your own!" I declare. 

"MAKE MY OWN," he mutters--though even that was loud. "I SUPPOSE . . .THAT IS POSSIBLE . . . " he says, yanking on his mustache and crinkling his brow.

 

 

I go quiet and float in place, letting the King think. I could sense this was vital--he needed to reach his own decision, or nothing would ever change. 

 

 

 

 

Then I feel the familiar sensation of someone in my mind--but it's so subtle I barely notice it. I jerk and look up at the King, and he smiles. Ack what was he doing in my head?!

"YOUR VALUES FASCINATE ME, HUMAN," he says, and I flinch--what did he mean by that?! "LOYALTY, INTEGRITY, AND SELF-SACRIFICE . . . YOU ACHIEVE IT SO RARELY, YET YOU KEEP TRYING. WHY? _"_

I take a deep breathe. "Because--I have learned to appreciate them by their lack in my life. Loyalty, to protect someone no matter what; integrity, to be true to your own nature; and self-sacrifice, the only true way to do good," I say, lowering my head. "Others have other values, but those are mine."

"IF YOU WERE TO MAKE THE LAWS, WHAT WOULD YOU DO?" the King asks, and I look up at him.

 

Thinking carefully, I say, "I'd--I'm  no lawmaker. But I think . . . " I think again. "I'd . . . make the law just one. "Do not allow harm to come to anyone, not even yourself." Of course, that'd never work--too many scenarios where violence is necessary--"

"BUT HARM DOES NOT MEAN PHYSICAL HARM, DOES IT HUMAN?" the King asks. "IT MEANS HARM TO THEIR VERY BEING, THEIR INTEGRAL FORM."

I nod. "Yes. Like--with Lynda. I  _had_ to fight her in order to save the others--but I stopped when it wasn't necessary."

"MIGHT I SUGGEST AN AMENDMENT?" he asks, and I nod for him to continue. "DO NOT HARM ANYONE IF  IT IS POSSIBLE AND WON'T RESULT IN UNDUE DEATH."

 

I nod slowly. "I like that. That prevents someone killing themselves needlessly, or letting someone else kill others when you can stop it."

"IT WOULD APPEAR SO, IF THE JUDGE IS WISE TO THE SCENARIO," the King says. "IT ALLOWS FOR FLEXIBILITY."

I raise an eyebrow at that. "Flexible?  _You?"_

 

"I AM CHOOSING TO IGNORE THAT COMMENT," the King says, and I duck my head muttering a sorry. "YES. I BELIEVE I WILL GO WITH THAT LAW AS THE LAW OF THIS LAND," he says, and I jerk my head up.

"I don't wanna dictate--!" I start, but he laughs.

"YOU MERELY INSPIRED," he says. Then he holds out his hand--I instinctively turn intangible, but he merely holds it there. "COME. I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE, AND YOU SHOULD BE THERE."

 

I step onto the palm and try not to shriek when it closes around me, the King whirling around and flying off somewhere, booming, "ATTENTION ALL SPIRITS! COME TO THE AMPHITHEATER! YOUR KING COMMANDS IT!"

 

Spirits start popping out of everywhere, flying the same direction we were, though not quite as fast. I even spot Angel and Grus come from Grus' constellation.

 

We reach the amphitheater well before anyone else, and the King lands in the center. He raises his hand to his shoulder and I hop on.

We watch as the seats fill up--I recognize the spirits from the show, and see many more--the other from the 88 constallations I was sure. True to what Angel said, there are only one of each--huh. 

 

The King eventually clears his throat when someone comes in, but I quickly, quietly, say, "What about Leo?" I had been looking for him, but hadn't seen him anywhere. Made sense, he  _was_ banished, but--!

"You're right," the King mutters, for once actually quiet. "This affects him, too."

 

He waves his hand, and suddenly there a circle of light suspended above an empty seat in the front row--and Leo drops down into it!

"LEO?!?!" several spirits cry out, the loudest of which being Angel, who immediately leaps up and flies over to glomp the lion spirit. 

I hear a commotion go up, so the King roars, "SILENCE! I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE."

 

The crowd goes silent  . . . . 

 


End file.
